


Twisted Innocence

by Book_Belle99



Category: Camorra Chronicles, Camorra Chronicles by Cora Reilly, Cora Reilly - Fandom
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Ballet, Born In Blood, Cora Reilly, Dark Character, F/M, Italian Mafia, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_Belle99/pseuds/Book_Belle99
Summary: Stolen kisses and pilfered cake, who would have ever thought that these seemingly unrelated things could bring two people together.Greta was only four years old when she met Amo. She was a small girl in a pink dress twirling around like a ballerina. He was a stoic boy in a suit watching her dance with fascination. Will fate bring these two opposites together?*All characters and names are owned by Cora Reilly. This book is written without intent to be sold or profited from in any way. We don't claim hold to any rights over these characters or names. This a republish of the original fanfiction on Wattpad by @Bound_By_Writing, written by three friends, myself being one of them.
Relationships: Amo Vitiello/Greta Falcone
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter One

Amo  
Amo 9, Greta 4

‘Be diligent, be aware, never allow yourself to be surprised.’

Luca’s words were on repeat in his son Amo’s head as his family walked into the church. At the age of nine Amo already felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. One day he would be Capo. His father promised it would be a long time until then, but his Uncle Matteo always joked that with their line of work, it could truly be any day. Amo was tall for his age, he knew that, and he was grateful for it. His height often intimidated other children which had helped deter him from acting his age. Someone in his position couldn't afford to act like a child.

“In this dress, I’ll be the hottest girl at the wedding,” Marcella said, making Amo cringe. Ever since his sister had started spending more time with their Aunt Liliana and her girls, Marcella had been acting like she was a grown woman instead of the 12-year-old girl she was. Their mother hushed her as people began to approach them for introductions. ‘Be diligent,’ Amo told himself, repeating each name in his head as many times as he could. Most of the people he didn’t recognize, but some of them his father had been drilling into him for a while. He needed to know not only his men but his enemies as well. The Camorra were their enemies, peace be damned. He had learned very early on that as future Capo, even his own men could be his enemies given the right circumstances.

“Fabi! Leona!” His mother’s voice was filled with joy as the man Amo knew must be his uncle approached. Leona held a toddler on her hip, causing his mother to lean forward and express how cute she thought the small girl was.

“It feels like just yesterday when you were this little.” She told Amo before trying to ruffle his black hair. Amo quickly sidestepped the affectionate gesture. ‘Be aware,’ he said to himself, knowing that allowing his mother to treat him like a child would keep the men around him from respecting him. Amo wasn’t a little boy anymore. He would be Capo one day. Marcella rolled her eyes as his mother let her hand fall with a saddened look. He hated that look. She gave it to him more often as he began to have more training sessions with his dad. He had gotten a black eye at the gym last month and when he wouldn’t allow her to comfort him, she had given him that same dispirited frown. He wanted to let her comfort him, he wanted it more than anything, but a Capo had to be strong.

“Luca,” this time the man greeting them was one Amo knew well, Adamo. Amo liked Adamo. They spent a lot of time together when Adamo had spent a year living under the Famiglias territory.

“Look at you Amo, at this rate you’ll be taller than your dad before too long.” Adamo reached out his hand and he grasped it. Their greeting was cut short by Marcella pushing her way between them.

“Hi Adamo, how much have I changed?” Her question was presented in a way that caused their father to pull her back and glare at her. Luca could always tell when his daughter was attempting to flirt, even when she couldn’t see it. Adamo let out a nervous laugh, not sure if he should answer or not.

“Leona saved our seats, and the ceremony should be starting soon.” Aria gently said with a hand on Luca’s chest. Amo watched his parents. He was grateful for his mother’s ability to diffuse situations like these. Marcella could take some lessons in subtlety from their mother, but she was more like their aunts and as a result, he had watched their father’s gun collection grow larger with each passing year.

The ceremony was boring; Amo knew it would be, but he stayed alert watching everybody and everything. The only moment that was unusual for a wedding ceremony was that when the flower girl came down the aisle, she was not alone. She was holding hands with a boy who wasn’t much taller than her. Their stark black hair and matching features left no doubt in his mind that the children were siblings, a boy, and a girl. The girl was wearing a pink dress and seemed to be divided between focusing on her toes and the end of the aisle. The boy seemed to have more confidence than the girl. ‘Never allow yourself to be surprised,’ Amo thought, but the problem with this situation was that he had been surprised. His sister would never have allowed someone to steal her moment. Had his sister been the flower girl at that age she would have been throwing petals with a beaming smile and soaking up all of the attention.

For the rest of the ceremony, Amo found he couldn’t resist watching the children. He had learned by paying attention to others that they were twins. His father mentioned they looked exactly like their father which helped Amo quickly deduce that they were Remo’s twins. He had heard about them of course. Back home he had heard soldiers talk about them, rumors said they were soulless, stating that they were unmistakably Falcones. Unusual? Yes. Amo thought to himself, but soulless? That was nonsense. They were children. Amo could only assume that a lot of the stories had been highly exaggerated in their circles and this was one of them.

The twins were unpredictable; and that, Amo did not like. He prided himself on being able to predict the actions of others. He knew when his sister was about to say something that would upset his father. He could tell by observing how people held themselves if they were nervous, confident, friendly, or on guard. Most of the men he met were constantly on guard. Children were often more predictable than men. They were innocents in their world. Amo knew he was still technically considered innocent until the day he would be initiated. He could predict what most of his peers would do in any given situation. He knew what his younger cousins would do almost as soon as they began. The Falcone twins though were different; they were unpredictable. 

Amo studied them as inconspicuously as he could. He wanted to see if, by watching them, he could start to figure them out. If he could make sense of them. It was difficult, though. He estimated their ages to be between four and six based on his knowledge of them and seeing how they behaved. The boy seemed to be constantly looking towards his father and the two uncles who were not at the altar, not for guidance but as if he was gauging what he might get away with. The girl seemed content to stay hidden away from everyone but would follow her brother wherever he went.

Amo was pretty disinterested in the rest of the festivities going on around him. He didn’t know the bride and groom, and all the mushy love stuff was making him sick. He was sitting at his family’s designated table beside the dance floor watching people twirl around when he suddenly heard the laughter of small children. It was a quiet sound, like the owners of the giggles were trying to be sneaky. He looked behind him towards the noise and saw the wedding cake and next to it were two children with stark black hair. It was them, the Falcone twins, again. He thought through many scenarios trying to figure out what they were up to now.

The twins quickly disappeared under the table, holding the cake. Despite knowing he should mind his own business, Amo was curious. Looking toward his parents, he knew they were distracted and wouldn’t notice he was missing. Amo stood from their table and quickly, but without trying to draw attention to himself, made his way towards where the two youngsters had disappeared. The dance floor was filled, so Amo stuck to the perimeter, never letting his eyes waiver from the table skirt. As he closed the distance he could see the duo had emerged on the other side of the giant wedding cake. Their forms were hidden between the size of the dessert and the back wall. Amo’s lips twitched as he realized what they were up to. The boy didn’t hesitate as he climbed on top of a chair, shoved his fist into the cake, and plopped the crumbled dessert down onto a plate the girl was holding. The little girl smiled brightly at her brother before he once again thrust his fist into the cake.

“NOT TODAY, PIA!” The shout caused Amo to freeze as it came from right next to him. The boy looked up before launching himself off the chair and running. Amo didn’t move but did note the man who had yelled was the groom, Savio. Savio was darting around guests chasing the boy, but Amo’s attention was still focused on the table. The girl, who had moments before been grinning at her brother was frowning down at the ground. The yell must have startled her because her crumbled cake that her brother had worked so hard to retrieve for her had fallen.

Over the years Amo had been taught many things by his father. Recently he had begun training on how to properly shoot a gun, but one of the first things his father had ever taught him was that women and children were to be protected. It was his father’s voice saying that it was their duty as men to protect the children that seemed to be echoing in his head as Amo closed the distance between himself and the little girl.

“Hey,” he gently coaxed her to look up trying not to react to the unshed tears in her small eyes, “it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He quickly looked around the room knowing he shouldn’t. The bride and groom were supposed to cut the first piece of the cake, but they would do that from the side so the guests could see and the boy had already damaged the back. Amo plucked a plate from a table behind the cake. Those dishes would be used in serving it later. Then he pulled the knife he kept hidden in his chest pocket out. His mother would be furious if she knew he had brought it with him. Quickly, he sliced a small piece of the delicate cake for the girl before cleaning his knife off on a napkin.

Hiding the cake from view, he motioned for the girl to follow him to the closest empty table. She didn’t seem to want to move at first, but hesitantly, she followed him with slow steps while suspicious dark eyes were examining him. Once they arrived he placed the plate onto the table and her expression brightened. She was much quicker to make her way onto the empty chair in front of the cake. Feeling accomplished, Amo turned to go sit with his parents again, only to see his father glaring at Marcella with his mother lecturing her. Marcella was always getting in trouble. He scowled to himself wondering what she has done this time. He did not want to be there for yet another fight. Taking a deep breath, Amo chose to take a seat at the empty table by the girl. Expecting that at least he could sit in silence. He was wrong.

“Tank you.” The sound was so soft he thought surely he had imagined it, but the child was looking at him with her head cocked to the side as though she was waiting for a response.

“I say tank you.” This time the tone wasn’t one of gratitude but of reprimanding. He was reminded of when his mother was getting on to him.

“Okay?” He replied confused as to what the child wanted. She huffed and crossed her arms making Amo want to laugh, but he held it in.

“I say tank you. You say ‘elcom.” It all came together like a light bulb switching on. The child was telling him to use his manners.

“Oh um, you’re welcome.” He replied feeling flustered at being taught manners by someone who was presumably half his age.

“No, no,” She said with a shake of her head causing her black curls to bounce, then she took a breath, smiled sweetly, and repeated the words that he at first did not even know had come from her. “Tank you”

“You’re welcome.” His response this time came with a slight twitch of a smile. He was working hard not to laugh at the entire situation.

Just before she finally took a bite of the stolen wedding cake, the little boy returned with a devilish grin and a look of accomplishment on his face. He seemed to have lost his shoes while he was being chased, and the way his thick hair sprawled out all over his head led Amo to believe he was more than a handful. When he spotted Amo, his grin turned into a scowl, the boy then looked over to his sister. He noticed the cake in her hand and promptly proceeded to grab the cake and stuff it in his mouth. The little girl’s expression turned to shock, then to something else as her eyes began to fill with tears. She took off towards the crowd in search of someone, presumably her mother. The little boy finished the cake, then unceremoniously wiped his cake coated hands on the table cloth before dashing after his sister. What a peculiar set of twins.

Amo returned to his table with his parents. Marcella sat looking very annoyed with her arms crossed on the table. His father had a protective arm draped over the back of her chair as if daring anyone to talk to her. His mother was across the room talking to Aunt Leona and her daughter. 

The bride and groom took to another dance on the floor. Marcella stared dreamily at them, but Amo couldn’t have cared less. This was all too girly in his opinion, the only thing that would make this interesting would be blood. Back in New York many of the guys had speculated that this wedding would be when Chicago finally took revenge on the Camorra for stealing the Ice Princess. Disappointingly, it appeared that his Uncle Matteo was right. He said before they left, “Dante doesn’t have the balls to attack after all this time.” The possibility of a fight was the only reason Amo had been somewhat looking forward to the event. His dad didn’t think he was old enough to intentionally go on dangerous outings yet. He had hoped this wedding would be his chance to show his newest shooting skills. Now it was just boring or at least that was what he thought until he noticed the twins again. 

They were in the corner of the dance floor. The girl struggled to hold the boy’s hands as she tried to twirl around, but the little boy kept trying to get free of her hold. The young Falcone seemed to love making Savio angry. Despite his sister’s many attempts to hold him back, the rambunctious boy got free of her hold and made a mad dash towards the bride and groom. Amo began to think of the boy as a Mini Remo. The boy slid down on his stomach and proceeded to crawl under the bride's dress. She jumped forward falling into the groom who frantically tried to grab her amid all the cloth. He caught her in time before she fell to the ground. Mini Remo peaked out from under the dress with a devilish grin as Savio snatched him up with one hand and stormed off the dance floor.

The girl had disappeared in the meantime. Amo watched as Remo grabbed his son and pulled him somewhere off to the side. Their mother, Serafina, hurried behind him looking like she was trying to calm the two down. Amo didn’t dare take his eyes off the spectacle until he felt a tug on his sleeve. Amo turned to see the little girl.

She looked up at him shyly, pointed to the dance floor, and said, “Please. You dance.”

Amo’s mother looked over with a smile and said “I think you have an admirer.” Amo would never have even considered dancing and when he didn’t say anything, the little girl repeated herself looking a little annoyed at his lack of manners once again.

“I say you dance!” she looked at him with big eyes, then smiled sweetly before adding the manners her mother had obviously instilled in her, “Please.” Just as he was about to reject her, his mother gave him a push and said, “When a pretty young lady asks for a dance Amo, the least you can do is accept.” she gave the little girl a wink and Amo groaned. He looked to his father for help, but all Luca said was “You heard your mother”.

“I can’t believe Amo is getting to dance and I don’t.” Marcella huffed. She looked over to her father as if to convince him to let her find a partner. Luca just shook his head and faced forward, his arm still securely wrapped around her shoulder.

Amo reluctantly got up and the little girl grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dance floor. Amo heard “awww” and “so cute” from the guests, and couldn’t help but feel the eyes of too many people upon him. Embarrassment crept up onto his cheeks. He quickly swallowed it down and reminded himself of his dad’s words ‘be confident, don’t show weakness’. With his head held high, he took the kid by the hands and went with her to the dance floor. He was a statue. He couldn’t figure out how to dance properly with a child, but it didn’t matter; she seemed to take the lead, having him hold out his hand so she could spin like a ballerina while holding his finger. The song seemed to last forever and he found all he had to do was allow her to switch from arm to arm, but then she made a little jump and with her tiny voice uttered yet another demand, “Up!”

“What?” Amo asked confused, but she jumped again and made the same demand, “Up!” leaning over slightly he picked the girl up under her arms and she arched her neck back as if they were performing Swan Lake. The pieces began to fit in his head. The pink dress; although traditional flower girls wear white, and the way she insisted on spinning. The child obviously took ballet classes.

When the song finally ended the little girl pulled on her skirt and curtsied. “Tank you fo dis dance, sir,” she said.

Amo shook his head. “No sir, just Amo.”

The little girl shook her head. “No! I say tank you for dis dance, sir. You bow and say ‘elcome”

Amo sighed and nodded. She curtsied again and said thank you. Amo sheepishly bowed and said, “You’re welcome.”

When Amo turned to walk away, she tugged on his sleeve forcing him to turn back to look at her once more. She motioned for him to bend down. Amo bent down knowing she would be persistent.

“I am Greta,” the little girl said, “and I love you, Amo.” She then kissed Amo right on the mouth in the middle of the dance floor.

Amo couldn’t stop his cheeks from turning red this time, very well aware of the many people who just saw the Camorra Princess kiss the Famiglia Prince. He quickly hurried back to his seat at his parent’s table. His mother was hiding her face behind a napkin trying hard to suppress her giggles, his father who never showed emotion in public had a slightly amused look on his face and Marcella scowled because she still hadn’t had a dance at all, while her little brother was having more fun than she was. Across the room, Remo Falcone held his daughter in his arms and stared straight at Amo with a look meant to kill.

While the twins were peculiar, and the little boy was definitely a handful, he had nothing on the shy little girl. ‘Be diligent, be aware, never allow yourself to be surprised.’ Amo listened to his father’s words on repeat as he wondered how a small child had managed to completely catch him by surprise. ‘Oh man,’ Amo thought, ‘what have I just gotten myself into’.


	2. Chapter Two

Greta  
Amo Age 12 Greta Age 7 

The Vitiello Christmas party had become the most anticipated event of the year. Greta had never been to a party outside of Las Vegas before. Her parents said it was really far and her dad kept trying to say she was better off staying home with her Uncle Savio and Aunt Gemma, but Greta didn’t want to be stuck at home; even Aurora was going. Greta wanted to dance like the princesses in her favorite movies all got to do when they went to a ball. Her Aunt Kiara had purchased a brand new red gown for the grand event and it was beautiful, even if it wasn’t pink. Greta wanted to wear her favorite tutu but at the wise age of seven, she knew that wasn’t appropriate so she settled for a dress that had a full skirt. It wasn’t as pretty as some of her ballet costumes, but it had tons of glitter which she loved.

“I’m just saying if his lips go near my little girl again...” her father’s voice caught her attention as she was buckling her new dress shoes. Her parents were walking into the small living room of their hotel suite.

“Remo! She kissed him, it was innocent and years ago! You can’t kill a boy for what a young infatuated child does. This is your own fault you know. If you weren't so affectionate in front of the kids she wouldn't have known how to do that, to begin with.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t kiss you anymore?” Her father growled in a low voice. Neither seemed to realize Greta was in the room.

“Don’t you dare!” Serafina pushed Remo’s chest before giving him one of those looks and proceeding to passionately kiss him. Greta was considering sneaking out into the bathroom when her twin stormed into the room.

“Eww get a room!” Nevio yelled. He had appeared with nothing but underwear on. “I don’t want another baby here.” He strutted around the family room as if he owned it. Greta suppressed a giggle knowing her mother wouldn’t be happy with her brother’s lack of clothing. 

Serafina gave Remo a ‘this-is-your-fault-he-knows-this’ look. Despite being seven, Nevio knew more about the making of a baby than he should, not to mention his first words had been all of the bad ones. And even though he started as an instigator against everything Savio did, he was beginning to act more and more like his uncle every day.

“Nevio! Where is your suit?” his mother asked. “I just put it on you ten minutes ago!”

“I took it off. I don’t like clothes!” Nevio ripped off his underwear and looked like he was going to plop down onto the couch in the nude when his mother gave him the look that said he was in trouble. As fast as she reached for him he jumped to get away, he turned around towards the closest exit and ran butt-naked out of the room.

“We stop at two. I don’t think I can handle another mini you.” Serafina said before running after Nevio to catch him before he mooned someone again.

It was another hour before everyone was finally dressed and ready to leave. After their family had first received the invitation there had been arguments about who would and wouldn’t go, it was ultimately decided that Adamo and Savio would stay home. 

Fabiano and Kiara both had family at the event so it felt like they needed to go, and of course, their spouses and children would go. At the age of five Aurora was excited to see her Aunt Aria, and the boys Massimo and Alessio were equally excited to see their Aunt Guilia. Guilia had been spoiling the boys for years sending them the most fun gifts on each holiday. Greta didn’t think her dad would allow her and her brother to go but he finally decided to let them attend only the week before. The plane ride to New York was long. The families had to eat lunch in their jet and both Massimo and Aurora had to take naps before they arrived. All the tiredness Greta felt on the plane ride evaporated when they pulled up to the Vitiello mansion.

If there ever was a more beautiful palace, Greta wouldn’t know. This place was grand and beautiful, a place a princess would live in. When the doors of the car opened Greta imagined herself as Cinderella stepping out of the carriage, the most beautiful girl arriving at the ball. While she did not remember the “kiss” her father had been so upset about for days, Greta had a vague memory of being lifted by a boy who embodied prince charming in her mind. She had not seen Amo Vitiello since she was too young to even really remember what he looked like, but a part of her pictured that tonight he would tell her how pretty she looked and they would dance the night away. The moment was ruined by a push from Nevio and a “move”. Greta fell fist first onto the walkway scraping up her knee and getting mud on her dress.

“Nevio!” Greta cried. “You ruined my dress!” 

Greta was not one for sudden emotional outbursts, so this got the attention of the grown-ups around her. Quickly, Remo scooped the girl up into his arms, examining the bleeding knee, but Greta was far more concerned with the mud on her dress. She frantically wiped at it hoping to make it disappear but all it did was make it worse.

Nevio peeked up at his sister. A guilty look on his face. Despite Nevio being the instigator he was, he never felt regretful or bad, unless his actions hurt Greta. Greta scowled at him.

“There's nothing we can do about it now, we have to go inside,” Serafina said brushing the dirt off Greta’s face.

“No!” Greta protested. Her perfect princess moment was ruined because of Nevio and she wouldn’t dare enter the palace with a ruined dress.

“Sweetheart, It’s going to be okay.” Serafina tried to soothe her.

“NO!” Greta shouted, catching everyone off guard. She never was one to yell or talk back.

“Greta,” Remo said warningly. “Watch your tone.”

Greta couldn’t handle it anymore, she started crying. Wiggling out of her father’s hold she ran toward Nevio and pushed with all her might. Despite being twins, Nevio was slightly taller and could withstand a push from Greta.

“Greta Falcone, that is enough. If you don’t stop it right now you are going home.” Remo said in a tone that scared even Nevio.

As they made their way up to the steps of the Vitiello Mansion, Greta hung her head in shame. The doors of the mansion opened and Luca and Aria stood there greeting everyone, Marcella and Amo standing off to the side. The men shook hands and the ladies hugged.   
As they all filed in Marcella looked around and asked “Is Adamo here?”

“Marcella.” chastised her mother softly.

“No, but I am,” Nevio said with a cocky grin. Marcella made an uncomfortable sound and turned away, but that didn’t stop Nevio as he followed right after her. Loosening the tie that his mother had forced upon him as he went.

“She is going through a phase.” Aria apologized to Serafina and Remo as Luca welcomed the rest of the group. Greta’s attention was on Prince Charming though. He was not as tall as she remembered, but she had been much younger the last time she saw him. He still looked like he could lift her into the air though, and if Disney taught her anything, it was that all a prince needed was to be strong enough to lift her when they were dancing; and Greta loved to dance.

When he gave her a strange look, she remembered the mud on her dress, she wished the floor would swallow her whole because she looked more like a pauper than a princess.   
“Oh no, what happened” Aria bent down to Greta. She was regarding her bleeding knee but Greta thought she meant her dress.

“I pushed her” Nevio popped up beside Greta. His tie was nowhere in sight. When Aria looked at him with an odd look he added “She doesn’t like to talk to people. She’s shy.”

As if to emphasize his point, Greta didn’t even make eye contact with the hostess of the party. Despite her disastrous appearance Greta’s eyes kept sneaking glances towards Amo. While she had no interest in kissing boys she almost wished she could remember the moment that had her dad so angry towards the boy she was mentally calling the prince.

“Well Greta, if you’re okay with it, I think I might have something to fix that.” That caught her attention, a smile grew on Greta’s face and she nodded hesitantly, while still not quite making eye contact. Aria stretched out her hand and Greta took it after her brother placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“We will be right back,” Aria said to her husband, “this is a fashion emergency.”

Remo started to protest, but Serafina stopped him by patting his chest.

As Aria led her up the stairs, Greta took in the huge staircase. She could imagine herself walking down it like a true princess. Her prince would wait for her at the bottom, ready to lead the way into the ballroom and dance all night. That fantasy was ruined by Nevio stomping up the stairs behind them. “HEY!” he shouted, “Wait for me!”

The room Aria led her to was beyond beautiful. It was for sure a princess room. She led Greta into a bathroom and took out a washcloth and bandage. She cleaned her scrape and bandaged it right up. “I know it’s not great, but every princess has battle wounds,” she said with a wink.

“Now onto the really important part.” Aria walked over to a wardrobe, she seemed to dig towards the very back before she pulled out a bag. When she unzipped it, Greta saw the most beautiful pink dress, and it looked like it was just her size.

Meanwhile, Nevio had climbed onto the bed and discarded his socks and shoes, “Finally, my feet can breathe.” His words were followed by him falling back onto the bed and waving his feet in the air.

Greta didn’t care about Nevio’s antics though. She was focused on Aria, the sweet kind woman who was helping her. This, she decided, was her fairy godmother, Aria had poofed the practically perfect pink princess dress out of nowhere, just for her. Greta could now really live out her fairy tale.

Aria helped her out of her muddy clothes and into the clean dress. Greta twirled around and felt beautiful. 

“You look lovely Greta,” Aria said.

Greta smiled up at her fairy Godmother, twirling around once again.

“Eh she looks alright,” Nevio said, glancing towards Greta as he walked towards the door while waving his hand as if to say hurry up. “Can we get to the party now?” Greta gave Aria one last smile and squeaked out a small “thank you” before hurrying along to rejoin her twin. The duo made their way towards the stairs, but as Nevio started down them Greta paused. She really wanted her princess moment and this was her second chance. Noticing she wasn’t with him, Nevio stopped to make sure she was okay. “What’s wrong?”

“I..” Greta hesitated, biting her lip. Nevio, always knowing what his twin wanted, saw how she looked at the stairs. “Girls,” he huffed out before grabbing the banister and sliding down in true Falcone form. Unfortunately, his mother saw him so as soon as he hit the floor with his bare feet he took off at a run. Greta could just hear the word shoes coming from her mother as she placed one hand upon the banister and slowly made her way down the staircase.

When she reached the last step Remo appeared at the bottom. “Well, don't you just look beautiful, Principessa.” Greta smiled up at her father. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s mistletoe above us.” He pointed to the little green leaves hanging above them. “And I believe that deserves a kiss.” Remo bent down and kissed his daughter on the cheek. “Would you do me the honor of walking with me to the ballroom? Every princess needs an escort.” Remo stuck out his arm and Greta took it. She was going to have such a grand entrance, she just knew she would be the most beautiful girl at the ball.

The ballroom was even more fantastic than in any movie she had ever seen. She looked in awe at all the beautiful dresses. Greta looked around the room watching all the people dance when her eyes landed on her prince charming. He was talking to a group of boys around his age. Her mind started to wander and she could almost see him walking towards her, bowing and asking her for this dance. They would dance all night.

Greta was sure it was really happening until Nevio ran by, grabbing her hand and pulling her with him. He had now lost his jacket. The only things that remained were his vest, shirt, and pants.

“Come on Greta!” Nevio pulled her with him “I see the cake!”

“Nevio.” Greta pulled on his arm.

Nevio turned to look at his twin. “Can you please dance with me?” A new song had just started and all Greta wanted to do was dance in her new dress. Nevio huffed, but turned around and dragged Greta to the dance floor. Greta had prepared for this moment. She insisted Nevio learn how to dance properly so that she would be able to dance at the party. This was her moment to shine.

As they started to waltz, Greta felt the world around her falling into place, even if Nevio stepped on her feet a couple of times, and tried to run away once. She had mastered her mother’s disapproving look though and had not hesitated on using it. Her smile grew with each spin as she began to take in the scene around her. Nothing would take this moment away from her. 

Well, it wouldn't have if Amo wasn’t dancing with another girl! This made Greta stop in the middle of her dance causing Nevio to ram right into her. “Greta!” he threw his hands in the air. “I thought you wanted me to dance with you! Greta?” Nevio touched his twin’s shoulder. “Greta, what’s wrong?”

Greta just stared as her prince charming danced with another girl. No, not a girl, a woman who made Greta feel like a child again instead of a princess. Then she saw that he smiled, and laughed and the mystery girl smiled and laughed and they danced together like the true prince and princess. Greta spun around and ran to her father. He was currently talking to Uncle Nino and a very large man with a scar on his neck that Greta didn’t recognize. They always said she should come to them if she ever got hurt by someone and she couldn’t imagine feeling any more hurt than she did at that moment.

Meanwhile, Nevio had found Marcella out in the hallway. He had taken off his vest and started unbuttoning his shirt. When she gave him a disgusted look he looked at her, cocked an eyebrow, and said “If you like where this is going just stick around, more clothes will be coming off soon.” then he winked. Marcella rolled her eyes and walked away, grabbing the arm of one of her friends as she went.

“Ohh playing hard to get?” Nevio started after her. “I love the thrill of a chase.”

“Nevio!” Serafina’s voice could be heard coming his way with a vest clenched in her hand. Smartly, the boy didn’t stick around. After quickly making sure his sister was in good hands he headed towards the kitchens. Greta could just make out what looked like the arm of his button-down shirt in the doorway when he completely disappeared.  
Remo picked up his daughter but Greta was just in too much agony to get words out. Soon, Serafina appeared dragging Nevio by the wrist. “That’s it,” She said, “He’s your problem for the rest of the night.” She pushed a pile of the discarded clothes into Remo’s empty arm and handed him over, taking Greta in the process.

“Come on sweetheart, there’s nothing chocolate can’t fix.” With that, mother and daughter made their way towards a giant dessert table while the guys tried to wrestle the shirt back onto Nevio. Knowing her twin, Greta predicted the clothes wouldn’t stay on him for long. 

Greta should have known her mother would be right. The chocolate did lift her spirits and soon she was back on the dance floor, this time with Aurora. Unfortunately, Aurora wasn’t as skilled as she was at dancing. Aunt Leona had let her quit the first time Aurora cried after her failed ball change. Greta knew better, she loved to dance. Her mom always said that love is worth the pain when Greta asked about the scar on her wrist. She danced all night only stopping for dinner, and then when she needed to exchange one dance partner for another. 

Her cousin Alessio was little and didn’t understand how to dance, so Greta was very excited when she heard someone ask if they could swap partners. Greta looked up to see Marcella and Amo. Amo looked upset with his sister, but all Greta could think was that she was finally going to get her dance with prince charming. Greta let go of her cousin’s hands, and he took off after his brother, not at all concerned about dancing. Marcella shrugged and with a smirk looked pointedly at her brother. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Greta looked up at Amo with a smile waiting for him to extend his hand for their dance, but he seemed to have turned into a statue. He wasn’t looking at her and when she tried to see what he was looking at, all she saw was a group of boys laughing. After letting out a frustrated sound he finally extended a hand towards her. He didn’t say a single word as they began to move around the dance floor but Greta had been right, he was a wonderful dancer. 

“You’re Amo, right?” Greta asked even though she knew the answer.

“Yes, and you’re Greta, the girl twin.” He replied and she was annoyed at being referred to as that.

“I am a dancer.” She said back, with slight annoyance. Before he could say anything else they were interrupted, her Uncle Nino cut in with a tap on Amo’s shoulder. Greta was a little sad her prince left so fast and was even sadder when she saw him instantly start dancing with yet another girl. 

“Tesoro, unless you want to see war break out, perhaps it’s better if you only dance with family.” Nino’s words confused her until she saw her dad glaring daggers towards Amo on their next rotation.

When the music faded Greta followed her uncle off the dance floor so that they could rejoin her family at the dinner table. Nevio slid a half-eaten slice of cake to his sister before ripping his button-down shirt apart, “Wow, I can breathe better now, but my pants are too tight.” 

“Perhaps it’s time for us to retire,” Nino said as Kiara walked over carrying a very sleepy looking Massimo. She handed the drowsy boy over to Nino and sat down at a table looking exhausted herself. Nevio struggled against Remo’s hold as his father tried to button his shirt back up for what must have been the tenth time.

“NO!” Nevio squirmed. “She wants me naked!” He looked longingly at Marcella.

“Give it a rest son, she’s too old for you,” Remo said and ruffled Nevio’s already messy hair. Nevio let out a defeated sigh and let Remo finish buttoning his shirt.

“One day.” Nevio gritted out.

Greta sat with her Aunt Kiara at the table. “How was your night Greta?”

“She’s just sad because she likes that one guy and he was dancing with some other chick,” Nevio said plopping down on the other side of Greta. Greta’s cheeks turned pink and she looked down at her hands.

“You don’t call girls chicks.” His mother scolded.

Kiara smiled and leaned into Greta. “Just wait, one day when you’re older so many boys will want to dance with you. And you will be so tired from all the dancing you’ll be the one trying to get away. One day you’ll get married and move away and then you can dance with your husband whenever you want.”

Greta smiled at the thought. She could picture her prince now if only he would realize she was the princess.

“NO!” Nevio shouted, “Greta can never leave, she has to stay with me!”

When it was time for them to go, the adults began to gather the children and their jackets together. 

“Nevio, where are your shoes?” Serafina asked.

“I can get them,” Greta said softly, remembering where her twin had taken them off. With her mother’s approving nod, Greta headed up the staircase. It only took a moment for her to grab the shoes and socks and soon she was heading back down the stairs. Her head was heavy. She was tired. She didn’t know how Cinderella could stay up so late. With her eyes focused on each step, she didn’t realize there was someone in front of her. When she was on the last step she bumped heads with Amo. Her height almost matching his with the tall stair she was still on.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but before he could move to go around her, Greta heard her fairy Godmother’s voice.

“Amo, you know better. There’s mistletoe. You can’t ruin a Christmas tradition.”

Behind her prince, was his mother who had been in conversation with her mom and dad. Greta looked up once again seeing the mistletoe that meant she was supposed to get a kiss, and before she could even utter a single word Amo pressed a fast kiss to her cheek, the opposite one her father had kissed, and then quickly moved around her and headed up the stairs. 

They finally said their goodbyes with her uncles dragging her father out the door and headed to the car. Soon they were on their private jet taking them back to Vegas. Greta and Nevio fell asleep on the way home, tired from all the dancing and running, Greta being the former and Nevio being the latter. Later that night Greta laid in her bed asleep when Nevio cracked her door open. Their parents had decided it was time for them to both have their own rooms away from each other. Nevio had a hard time with this so he snuck into Greta’s bed under the covers and laid down with her. Greta stirred, “Nevio?” she whispered.

“Yeah it’s me, I couldn’t sleep. Can I sleep here with you?” he whispered back.

“Are you wearing pajamas?” Greta asked with a worried tone.

“Only cause I knew you’d ask.” He replied.

Reassured, Greta took Nevio’s arm and cuddled up next to him, she loved to cuddle, and even though Nevio didn’t, he would always make an exception for Greta.

“Greta?” Nevio whispered.

“Yeah?” She whispered back.

“Promise you won’t ever leave me.”

“I promise.”


	3. Chapter Three

Amo

Amo Age 17 Greta Age 12

No one ever thought peace between the New York Famiglia and the Las Vegas Camorra would last this long. Yet here they were, another year has come and gone with the two families not only peaceful but with more of a working relationship than anyone ever thought could be possible. Amo couldn’t remember a time in his life when the Camorra was ever a true threat. Yes, he had been told over and over again that peace never lasts, but with the Bratva being at odds with everyone and the MCs growing rapidly, fighting with their sorta allies didn’t make sense. He stretched his arms as his muscles once again felt restless from the long flight. Amo hated to fly. He wanted to be in control of the vehicle and flying took that option away from him. 

“Why are there sunflowers in the restroom?” Matteo growled out as he returned to his seat near his nephew.

“Guilia,” Amo responded as if that should explain everything, “Dad let Cassio and her use the plane last week.”

“That woman is an odd one.” His uncle replied.

“Don’t let Cassio hear you say that. He may be old, but he is still in top shape.” Amo said as he flipped through documents he had been reviewing for the Sphere. The night club was one of his biggest responsibilities.

“Hey! Watch what you say, kid, he’s only six years older than me.” Amo’s uncle retorted. “And I could beat his ass if I wanted too.”

He was grateful it was at least his uncle with him on this trip to bargain with Falcone about street racing. He wasn’t that interested in cars. Regardless, he was going to use his time in Vegas to his advantage. The twins would be 12 by now. He planned to watch Nevio like a hawk. Look for any signs of future weakness, watch how he behaved around the Vitiellos, and keep track of his mannerisms. They would both be Capo someday and Amo had the advantage of not only being older but being able to watch his future rival grow up. Knowing how Nevio behaves as a child will foreshadow how he’ll act like an adult. And then there was Greta. Had she gotten over her stupid childish crush yet? He hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with her ridiculous dancing requests again. It had taken quite a while before he forgave Marci for dragging him over to dance with that child all those years ago. It took weeks of him punching anyone who so much as mentioned the “precious royal couple” before the comments stopped being made so loud. Rumors were still flying around, no one would say them to his face though. While he didn’t know for sure, he was pretty confident it was his sister who started them. He was a man and Greta was merely an annoying child. Why would he wait for a child when he could have whoever he wanted now.

“Glad to see you all arrived in one piece.” Fabiano greeted the pair after their plane had landed. Amo accepted the handshake from his mother’s brother while scanning the area. As future capo, he could never let his guard down. “Come back to the mansion and we can talk about expanding our street races. Adamo has been so excited about this meeting.”

It was a testament to how far their relations had come that Matteo and Amo were allowed into the Falcone home. Fabiano had offered to host them in his house, but Adamo had insisted it would be too much for him to have to bring over. Adamo had everything so well planned out. When they got to the mansion, Matteo and Fabiano went to the living room to speak to Adamo and Nino, another one of the Falcone brothers. Meanwhile, Amo went in search of the bathroom. 

When he was finished, Amo wandered down the corridor. It was quiet in this mansion, so maybe that was why the soft ring of music drew him towards the sound. He peeked through the crack on the door and saw a girl dancing. Her movements were like art, so graceful and determined. He couldn’t help but watch in awe. When the music ended the girl sat on a bench, her face was now visible to him and he could see it was Greta. She had grown up, she was taller and thinner, her face still had a bit of baby in it, but it was almost gone. She was actually quite pretty for her age, he assumed she must be twelve or thirteen.

She took her shoes off wincing ever so slightly. Amo looked closer and noticed the bandages were red. Blood. Amo couldn’t believe what he was seeing. They must torture her or abuse her. Concerned, he stepped in. The door squeaked when Amo pushed it open and Greta’s head shot up.

A confused look crossed her face and she asked “what are you doing here?”

Ignoring her, Amo picked up her foot. Greta jerked, kicking his arm as she tried to pull her foot away, but Amo was stronger so he didn’t let go. “What have they done to you? I knew the Falcones were crazy, just wait until I tell my Father how they torture their daughters-”

“They didn’t torture me!” Great said it as if Amo was going crazy. “I’m in ballet, I started pointe this year, this is just what happens.”

Amo looked confused. How can a simple dance make someone look that beat up and hurt? ‘Not possible.’ He thought, ‘A whole night of dancing couldn’t do this, instead it must be how they punished their kids. They just do it in a place where it couldn’t be seen’

“Greta, this is serious! If something is going on I need you to trust me. I have connections.”

“Are you insulting my family, Amo Vitiello?” Greta said angrily, “Because I don’t appreciate that. Every ballerina’s feet look like this and I knew that when I started. And besides, if I was being abused, why would they only hurt my toes?” She put a hand on her hip and looked up at him.

“To hide it of course,” Amo replied thinking about how some of his father’s men would abuse their wives only in places that could be hidden by clothes so that no one could see the marks. Amo didn’t know why he was even bothering, this was Camorra territory and she was a Falcone. He had no reason to be so worried about her, but he was. He chalked it up to being raised to respect women and children.

Greta laughed causing Amo to lash out, “Greta this is serious!”

“No. Don’t walk in here and act like you know anything. I am a dancer, my feet are like this because of the strain and pressure from the shoes.” She glared at him as she emphasized her words with a jab to his chest. 

She wanted to storm away but he was still holding her foot. She hated that he started to examine it. While she loved to dance the damages it had already done to her feet made her embarrassed by them. She couldn’t wear the cute flip flops her mom and aunts did. She even hated swimming because she exposed them to her brother and cousins who always made such a big deal out of it. She hated the blisters she’d get before. She worked hard not to let them see what had begun as a result of her newest training.

“So this is from dancing?” He seemed so curious as he moved her foot from side to side.

“Yes, now can I have my foot back?” She snapped wanting to get away from this man, she had finally realized how they were in a room alone and while he might not see her as anything but a child, she still knew she was never supposed to be alone with guys.

“Are you going to rest it?” He asked, still not letting go of her foot.

“No, I’m going to re-wrap it and practice.”

“You can’t be serious!” She could feel a slight increase in pressure as his temper was reflected in his muscles.

“Deadly,” She replied and then blew out an annoyed breath before continuing, “Look, you have scars right? From fighting and who knows what else? These are my scars. This is my battle. You fight for drugs, territory, and guy stuff. I fight to become the best.”

“Fine. What can I do to help?” His words had confused her as she looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Painkillers? Alcohol? How do we numb it so you can keep going?” His question while completely serious had Greta giggling.

“Alcohol? My dad says I can’t have any yet!” she barely managed to laugh out. 

“I’m sorry I forgot I was talking with a child. Should I kiss it to make it better?” His mocking tone was emphasized by him puckering his lips and pulling her foot closer. Instantly she began to try and pull it away again.

“My toes are bleeding and gross don’t even joke about that!” Her words meant to help her get her foot free felt like a challenge to Amo. He didn’t shy away from anything. Firmly he pulled her foot towards his lips and placed a single kiss on her bleeding toes.

“EWW! That is disgusting.” Greta cringed, as she was finally able to pull her foot away. Amo laughed at her disgusted expression, “ There is blood on your lips now. Gross!”

“Eh, I’ve had worse on my lips,” He said with a laugh as he began to lick the blood off, but seeing her repulsion made him pause. He couldn't resist dragging out the motion and seeing just how much he could make her squirm, “Mmmm, still warm. Just the way I like it.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re so gross, Amo!” Greta yelled, laughing at him.

“Perhaps, but the now inquiring minds must know did it work? Is your booboo feeling better, little girl?” His tone was challenging and held a tone of talking down to her like she was much younger than she was. Greta hated it.

“No,” she quipped, finishing up her bandaging and tying on her shoes, “but I know how to handle pain.” she proceeded to leap to her feet and began to dance. Amo didn’t want to say it, but he was impressed. She wasn’t perfect, he had seen ballets before, but the fact she could keep her face so serene, while her feet had to be in so much pain was very impressive. He intended to slip out and rejoin his Uncle and Adamo, but street races didn’t hold much interest for him. So instead he leaned against the wall by the door and watched. Greta’s body twisted and turned in ways that shouldn’t be humanly possible. She lifted her right leg bringing it straight up and she held it and spun, then she suddenly swung the leg beneath her and arched her back. She was so graceful and swift. Curious to see just how far the child would push herself before the pain became too much, it was almost as if he couldn't leave until he knew. He found himself more and more surprised with each minute that passed, why didn't she quit already? He was sure she would crack as her legs spread down across the floor forming the splits. Amo was awestruck. He wasn’t sure how one person could be so flexible in such a graceful manner.

Suddenly Amo realized he wasn’t alone. Three boys had entered the room, holding plates of cake. Two held the distinct Falcone looks, the third held himself like a Falcone but didn’t match the black hair and dark eyes the family was known for. “Who are you and why are you in here with my sister?” The oldest child growled out but his voice cracked on the word sister. ‘Ah puberty,’ thought Amo. He smirked knowing he had finally met Las Vegas’ future Capo. With a temper like that, the boy would never be able to hold onto power. 

“Nevio!” Greta called quickly joining them and pulling on her brother’s arm.

“Why are you here?” He repeated not looking at his twin.

“Nevio, this is Amo Vitiello. I invited him.” The girl lied through her teeth. Amo arched an eyebrow at her. Did she think he was scared of her brother or was she worried her brother’s temper would get him pummeled? Amo wanted nothing more than to take the kid down a peg, but he was in Camorra territory and he wasn’t about to risk peace over a child. With perfect timing, Amo could hear Adamo calling his name from nearby.

“As much as I’d love to spar with you kid I’ve got to get back to work,” Amo directed at Nevio who, at this point, Greta was trying to physically block. “Oh, and twinkle toes, try not to hurt yourself again,” Amo told her with a wink, causing the boys to stop glaring at him and instead surround Greta in concern. 

Remo had come home by the time Amo made his way back to the guys, and he was just as short-tempered as his son. Remo’s voice was loud and threatening as he yelled at his brother for having the street race meeting in his home. Amo steeled himself preparing for whatever may come. He completely understood why Remo was upset, his own father was hesitant to let others into his home as well. Eventually, Serafina managed to calm her husband down, and while the guys had all insisted they could move the meeting to Fabiano’s place. Serafina insisted they stayed causing Remo to sit in for the rest.

After the initial Falcone outbursts, the rest of their business meeting was boring. They went over routes for the upcoming races and discussed the cars that he and Matteo would see in person later. None of it Amo found particularly interesting, but as his father had explained to him many times, he needed to be knowledgeable in all areas of their business dealings. It was when one of the Falcone women came in declaring dinner was nearly ready that Amo realized just how long they had been working. It took a moment for him to recognize her. She was wearing tight dark wash skinny jeans and a blood-red blouse, but the Vitiello features were there. Kiara, his father’s cousin, had prepared a dinner of what looked like grilled cheese and tomato soup. Amo was shocked by the meal, it wasn’t anything that he was expecting. That made him uncomfortable. He hated surprises. Despite how much he prepared, a trip to Vegas always seemed to bring surprises with it.

Dinner went well. Amo continued to watch the Falcones, after all this time they were still an unpredictable group, well most of them at least. Purposely, he allowed some of the tomato soup to sit on his bottom lip after taking a sip. He watched Greta and as soon as she made eye contact he slowly licked off the red soup, “Mmmmm, still warm. Just the way I like it.”

Her nose scrunched up in revulsion and she shoved her bowl away. Amo held in the laughter that he wanted to let out. She was so much fun to mess with. Watching the child freak out had him enjoying his visit just a bit more. He ignored the odd looks from the adults and continued sipping his soup.

“What’s wrong Twinkle Toes? Don’t like your soup?” He asked before taking another big spoonful. The rest of dinner was spent with the women discussing random things that held no interest for Amo. It was Adamo leaning over that finally helped him want to pay attention to someone again, “So Diego just said the shipment was delayed. How do you feel about hitting up the Sugar Trapp before we go? There are some awesome women there that belong to the Camorra.”

“Man, I’m all for it, but my aunt would kill Matteo if she finds out. Would we have time to go and come back for him after?” Adamo nodded at Amo’s question. The young man was grateful he might finally get to see some of the fun sides of Vegas.

Most of the guys in his circles had started visiting special establishments at an early age, unfortunately for Amo, his father hadn’t followed in the age-old tradition. Luca had told his son it was better to not let his duties to the Famiglia dictate how he led his personal life. Thankfully for him, his sister’s guy friends had been more than willing to let him get those life experiences with them.

“Looks like there were some people who decided to break into my chocolate cake before it was time,” Kiara said as she entered the room with a glare toward the pre-teens. The chocolate cake was missing nearly a quarter. Amo averted his eyes as Greta stared innocently at her aunt, “I’m so sorry Aunt Kirara. I have been working so hard, and I skipped lunch. I was hungry and I didn’t mean to eat so much.”

“You ate that much cake alone?” Kiara asked doubtfully while looking at Nevio and the boys.

“Yes,” the girl said confidently. Amo suppressed a smile, the girl had lied to protect someone else, again. 

“So, the Sugar Trapp?” Amo asked to relieve the tension.  
Matteo had decided he should come along for Amo’s safety, he said Luca would kill him if he didn’t. Amo wasn’t happy about it, he knew his uncle wouldn’t partake in the girls and would just be a wet blanket but when Fabiano said he would come as well, Amo knew for sure him and Adamo wouldn’t have as much fun as they had originally planned anyway. 

“Alright I’m ready, let’s hit the Sugar Trapp.” A distinctly broken voice squeaked as Nevio walked up to their group. His cockiness and swagger were way too big for his pre-teen self.

“Sorry little man, but I don’t think you’re quite old enough to go yet,” Matteo told the kid. Fabiano had to place a restraining hand on Nevio. Amo found he was starting to understand the future Capo because he knew before he reacted that he wouldn’t like being told no, “I am a Falcone! I own this town!”

“You aren’t going anywhere young man!” Serafina chastised, “Your sister has her recital tonight.”

The boy’s mother dragged him away, but the guys weren’t in the clear yet. While they were getting their things together to leave, the other twin, Greta, popped up to stop them.

“Ummm, Amo?” The pre-teen seemed so much more unsure of herself than she did in her ballet studio that afternoon. Amo wondered if this was because she had an audience when speaking to him or if it was because of Matteo. While he wasn’t as tall as his father, Matteo was intimidating.

“I have a dance recital tonight in about a couple of hours. Would you like to come? I heard Uncle Adamo say your shipment was delayed and I thought maybe…” her words were cut off by her uncle throwing an arm over her shoulder, “Sorry kid, we already made other plans.”

“That’s right Twinkle Toes,” Amo added hoping to gross her out at the reminder but instead she gave him that look that he knew was not safe for a kid like her to give a man like him, so he said something he hoped would kill that stupid childish crush, “I’ve got a date with several grown-up women tonight. I can’t leave them all waiting, now can I?”

With that, the guys laughed and headed out for a night on the town. Amo told himself he didn’t feel the tiniest bit bad about the unshed tears he saw glistening in the girl’s eyes. After all, she was a child and it wasn’t like she would ever see him again anyway. Peace with the Camorra wouldn’t last that long.


	4. Chapter Four

Greta & Amo  
Amo 21, Greta 16

Greta had gotten up early to work on her potaburé, Fountaine pointe, and the swan spin her instructor wanted her to get down before her next recital. Greta had been getting up at five in the morning each day to work on it before the home gym got too crowded. She didn’t mind the others but it was hard to dance when so many got in the way. Her family wasn’t typical, Greta knew that. Her hard work and fantastic progress she had been making in dance had led to her mom talking to her about her future when she was younger. Greta would never be able to be a professional dancer. She would never be able to pursue dance after graduating, and while for most people, it might have meant giving up, the knowledge her time was limited meant that she couldn’t waste a single moment. She pushed each practice, each movement, and each moment to the fullest extent possible. 

She had been straining her feet and her toes, her arches ached from the high intensity she had pushed herself too, but she was determined to get this move down, even if it killed her. With one last spin and leap, Greta dove into the Fountaine point. Her toes ached against the box and she could only imagine the blood and blisters that formed on her feet from this morning alone.

As she unlaced the slippers and unbound her bandages, Greta hissed at the raw blister on the side of her foot that had been getting worse every day now. The bandages were coated in blood and she knew she had pushed herself too far, but she had to get this position down.

“If dad sees this he’s gonna be pissed” Nevio rested in the doorway of the home gym. “You’ve already had three infections and two broken toes in your right foot alone in the past six months. You’re pushing yourself too far, even your instructor says so.”

Greta made an exasperated sigh and began to bandage up her feet with a fresh cloth. “You don’t understand.”

“Yes I do, I can see you in pain. You wince every time you put too much pressure on your right foot. If you don’t give yourself time to rest and heal you’re gonna get seriously hurt.”

“You’re one to talk,” Greta muttered under her breath. Greta knew the Camorra tattoo Nevio had gotten a year ago held more than he would ever reveal. Nevio gave her a look daring her to continue her thought, but she just shook her head, not in the mood for a fight this morning. She grabbed her bag and pulled an oversized sweatshirt over her leotard and leggings.

Nevio looked at the sweatshirt confused, “That’s my shirt.”

“It looks better on me.” Greta threw her bag over her shoulder and headed out the door.

“You went into my room?” Nevio asked.

“You go into mine all the time.”

“That’s different. I’m a man now, I need my privacy.”

Greta snorted a laugh, “What? You're afraid I’m going to find the bra and panties of the last girl who you’ve had in your room? Too late.” She turned to look at Nevio, he didn’t seem amused.

“You weren’t supposed to know that,” he said, saddened.

“Well then tell the next girl you sleep with to take her undergarments with her when she’s done having sex with you.”

“Greta, I mean it, stay out of my room. You aren’t supposed to know about that kind of stuff let alone accidentally see it.”

“You forget, Nevio, we share a wall. I don’t have to see it to know what’s going on because I can hear it.” Greta strutted down the hallway feeling very pleased with her comeback.

Nevio groaned and followed after her.

The Falcone’s gathered around the table for breakfast, everyone staggered in grabbing a pancake or some juice as they sat down at the table. Kiara piled her plate high with fruit, dropping a few pieces on her son's plates. Alessio looked slightly hungover when he came in, but Greta didn’t say anything. Since the boys had been inducted officially into the Camorra, they stayed out late each night, partying, drinking, and probably other things Greta didn’t want to know about. She already heard Nevio through the walls.

“Have you started baking the cake yet?” Nevio asked their aunt innocently while sharing a look with Greta. Kiara shook her head at the pair and waved her finger at them.

“Not again you two!” We have not had a cake for any event with this family that wasn’t pilfered early, ever since you two became tall enough to reach the table. I will not have your birthday cake cut into before the candles are blown out.” Kiara’s words were followed by Nevio looking like he had just been given a considerable challenge.

“Can we at least know what flavor it is?” Greta asked innocently.

“It smelled like chocolate and fruit.” Aurora piped up between bites.

“So you're baking it at Aunt Leonas’?” Nevio’s voice held glee. “I’m all for chocolate, but can we ditch the fruit?”

The conversation came to a halt when Remo’s phone rang. Serafina and Nino shot him a look as if they all knew a secret they weren’t willing to spill. Greta was very observant, so while Nevio was plotting how to get the cake early. It was the call that caught Greta’s attention immediately while her brother continued to stuff his face. Something was going on, and it seemed like a few people were in on it. She was used to being surrounded by secrets. No one trusted that the girls could handle everything the guys dealt with during the day. Though to be fair, Greta had been told by her aunt Gemma once that her father and uncles were far more open with their families than most made men were at home. Remo strode from the breakfast table leaving a half-eaten plate before walking outside to answer the call. 

When Remo came back in he cleared his throat. “That was Luca Vitiello. He, his wife, and his son are flying in today for Greta and Nevio’s party tomorrow.”

Nevio made a face, “Why’d you invite them?”

Remo shared a look with his wife. Her eyes widened in a way Greta recognized as her ‘tell them’ look. Her father slightly shook his head no, before their mom gave him a reassuring smile and began to speak about whatever they must have been silently discussing. “They will actually be here for the week. Your father has been speaking with the Vitiello’s and decided that the Camorra and the Familglia need a tighter bond.” 

The breakfast table was silent, except for Alessio who asked the obvious question, “What kind of bond?” 

“The Famiglia has always said that the best way to ensure that kind of a bond is by marriage, and it seems his son has taken an interest in...Greta...,” Remo trailed off looking at his wife.

A confused look passed across Greta and Nevio’s face, not sure what their parents were getting at. “We have talked it over and decided a marriage alliance between two children of Capos is the strongest union anyone could ask for,” Serafia explained.

“What do you mean?” This time it was Massimo who spoke. Everyone turned to stare at Remo as if at any moment he would tell them all it was a joke and what they were getting at was not what everyone was thinking. 

“Greta and Amo will become engaged this week,” Remo said reluctantly. Tension soon filled the room.  
When no one said anything, probably related more to shock than actual anger, Serafina piped up, “We will host a party to celebrate!” she said in a cheerful voice, hoping to lighten the mood, “It’s a Famiglia tradition.” Kiara added as if that explained why they would be celebrating an arranged marriage.

“And after she turns eighteen they will get married.” Remo scoffed at the traditions, he could have cared less. In his opinion putting a ring on a finger and a quick marriage showed enough.

“A wedding!” Aurora piped up excitement in her young voice before Massimo hushed her.

Greta sat frozen in her chair, her fork stopped halfway between her plate and her mouth. She felt a lump forming in her throat and almost choked on her pancakes. ‘No. No. No. This cannot be happening. No, it just can’t be...no’ the voice in her head was becoming too much.

“No!” Greta was surprised when the voice wasn’t hers. Nevio had slammed both his hands and abruptly stood from the table. His movement threw back his chair and caused the table to shake so violently that the pitcher of orange juice fell onto the remaining hotcakes. “You can’t do that!”

Remo looked at his son, a spitting image of himself, and bit back, “I’m not asking your opinion, this is final and when Luca gets here today we will shake on it.”

Nevio blew up. “You have no right! I will be Capo one day shouldn’t I get a say in who my sister marries? I won’t let her marry someone called the fucking ‘Sandman’! That’s stupid!”

“You will be Capo, but not today. You have a long way to go before you rule over Las Vegas and frankly, right now Greta could do a better job than you.” Remo spat back.

“I won’t let her marry him. I will kill him before I let him even look at her, He will-”

“Nevio, stop,” Greta spoke quietly. “Just stop.” For the first time in a long time, Greta felt tired. She felt the weight of fatigue under her eyes and the ache in her legs and feet. For her age, Greta knew more and witnessed more because of her life in the mafia than a normal girl would. Greta clung to ballet as a newborn clings to their mom because it was the closest she could ever get to being a normal sixteen-year-old girl. She was tired of all the brutality that came with the mafia. Greta was tired of knowing her future was planned for her. She was tired that her brother always spoke for her. She was tired, and today she just didn’t want to deal with any of it.

Nevio looked confused, “Greta you can’t be okay with this? He’s the son of Luca Vitiello, he’s the Famiglia, he’s the enemy. Even you have to have heard the rumors about him. This isn’t like one of your stupid fairy tales. You can’t let a little school girl crush-”

“Nevio!” Greta shouted. “Stop! I can speak for myself, I don’t need you to do it for me.”

A look crossed Nevio’s face that Greta didn’t like. He stormed out of the kitchen and she went after him.

“You can’t seriously be okay with this,” Nevio said when Greta caught up with him.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m okay with this, I have a duty. We knew this was bound to happen at some point, if it’s not Amo then it’ll be someone else.”

“A duty?” Nevio scoffed. “You don’t even know what that means.”

“Yes, I do. I may not be a made man, but I still have responsibilities as a girl in this life. You wouldn’t understand, you’ll be Capo one day, you can do anything you want. I can’t. I can’t do what I want, I can’t marry who I want because I don’t have a choice, and if I did who would I choose? I’m not allowed to be around any guy by myself and the guys I have met are either your friends or family. I trust dad and I know he would never do this without really thinking it through.”

Nevio didn’t say anything for a long time. “You can’t leave me,” Nevio told her in almost a whisper.

“This was bound to happen someday Nevio. One day you will get married too and have your own family as well. Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean we’re apart.” Nevio wasn’t reassured. 

Greta bumped him with her shoulder. “Nevio we are as close as we can get without being conjoined. It was hard when we had to stop sharing a room, but we made it. It was hard when I started going to an all girl’s school, and it’s been hard as hell to watch you grow up exploring this world around us, while I’m stuck at home with parents who try to shelter me from the world we live in. We’ve made it this far, we can do it again.”

Nevio looked at Greta for a long time. They had been inseparable after their births, but with each passing year, they saw less and less of each other. Despite life taking them in different directions, they had done everything that mattered together, birthdays, holidays, and rarely had they spent more than a few days apart since the moment they were born. Even though Nevio knew Greta was bound to get married someday, he still pictured her living here with him. It never crossed his mind she might actually leave Las Vegas. All of his uncles and cousins lived in the mansion, everyone had their own wing. Even their Uncle Fabiano who wasn’t a blood brother lived in the mansion next door. Why would his father ever agree to allow Greta to marry someone who would take her so far away from them?

Anger filled him at the thought of Amo. How dare he. He was just going to waltz in here and scoop his Greta off her feet and march right out. ‘Over my dead body.’ Nevio thought. Right there Nevio vowed to himself and his sister, even if she didn’t know it, to not let this marriage happen. Amo didn’t deserve his sister. Nevio would stop this ridiculous alliance any way he could, and if he couldn’t he would die trying. 

Greta gave Nevio a hug and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you Nevio, please promise me you won’t do anything stupid, no matter how upset you are.” She knew him too well.

Nevio still didn’t say anything, he whipped out his phone and started furiously typing something. With a tired sigh, Greta left Nevio alone and headed back to her room to change out of her leotard and tights.

After taking a quick shower and throwing on some clothes, Greta headed towards Nevio’s room. She had thought a lot during her shower, but she had more questions than answers. The last time she had seen Amo Vitiello was years ago, why her? Why now? They hadn’t seen each other in years. She scoffed at the idea of him taking an interest in her as her mother had claimed. No, this was a business deal. She had heard the rumors. Her parents couldn’t shield her from everything. Each year that the Camorra and the New York Familigia remained peaceful the rumors had grown. They started with her innocent kiss at her uncle’s wedding. People giggled and called them the “Royal Couple” she had been too young to know why the event had upset her father so. Years later when the two danced for mere seconds at a Christmas party fuel was added to the rumors. She had thought maybe the talks would have died out after all these years, but some people just couldn't be stopped from speculating if the families had arranged a marriage at her birth which is how peace had remained for so long. She of course knew that was ridiculous. 

With more questions than she had answers, Greta decided to push all thoughts that weren’t of her party aside. She hoped Nevio had calmed down enough. She needed him to take her shopping for the perfect birthday dress, and it would serve two purposes. Many times when Nevio got so upset and wouldn’t talk, she would coax him to drive her somewhere and then inevitably get him to talk. Nevio was not one to sit in silence.

She knocked on his door impatiently, “Nevio, I need to go get a dress for tomorrow can you drive me?” Despite knowing how to drive, and even being a better driver than Nevio, Greta was still not allowed to leave without someone. Greta could hear loud music playing from behind the door. When no one answered the door she knocked again. “Nevio! Turn your music down, I need to talk to you!” When he still didn’t answer Greta opened his door and screamed and averted her eyes. It seemed that Nevio had a guest over, and from the lack of clothing on both of them, she doubted they were just wrestling. 

“Greta! Get out!” Nevio jumped out of bed trying to cover himself. The girl in his bed frantically grabbed the sheets and hoisted them up to cover her very exposed body. She cursed herself for not realizing what she was walking into. Nevio had learned as the years progressed to restrict his nudist lifestyle to his room, but the whole upcoming engagement had her mind so distracted she forgot the one rule she gave herself years ago. To always cover her eyes before she walked in. Not too long after her yell Remo, Savio, Nino, and Alessio came running toward the spectacle after hearing the scream. They had their knives out and looked ready to pounce.

“What’s going on?” Remo asked, looking around, his eyes landing on Nevio who was covering himself with a pillow.

“Trust me,” Greta shuttered, “you don’t want to know.”

She decided it was best to not have a shopping trip with her twin after interrupting him and so she convinced her uncle Savio to take her to look for dresses instead. He was the easiest to convince out of all her uncles. He had been wrapped around her finger since he first set eyes on her. She begged her Aunt Gemma to come as well, Greta needed her fashion opinion, and she loved Gemma’s style. She had even raided her aunt’s closet a time or two because of it.

They went to a couple of places Gemma suggested, Savio groaning that they were taking too long. The third boutique they went to was the place Aunt Kiara recommended, she shopped there frequently. Greta had gone shopping with her aunt here many times over the years when she was younger. At that time, Greta had loved to pretend to be a grown woman in elegant gowns. As soon as she walked in, she was recognized by the blonde sales associate. The lady, who’s name tag read Susan, approached her with a smile. “Hello Mrs. and Miss Falcone, Mr. Falcone! How lovely to see you today! How can I assist you today?” 

Greta smiled shyly and said in a soft voice, “It’s my sixteenth birthday tomorrow and I need a dress.” While she had learned not to give in to the shyness that plagued her as a child, she still found herself speaking softer with strangers than she would typically at home. 

Susan clasped her hands together, “How wonderful! Let’s take you on back and see what we can do.” Greta and her entourage followed Susan to the back of the store where they kept their most elegant and expensive gowns, it was well known amongst the sales associates that the Falcone’s preferred quality items. As they reached the best selections the store had available, Susan offered to get some champagne for the group. Greta was about to refuse when Savio accepted for all of them. Champagne in hand, Greta was set to finding the perfect dress. Third time’s a charm after all! 

Not too long into perusing, Aunt Gemma called out, “Greta! This would be gorgeous on you!” Gemma handed her a stunning baby blue dress off the rack. It was a sleek and strapless A-line that stopped just above the floor. Greta nodded in approval and Susan whisked it away and into her dressing room.

Savio mindlessly flipped through the dresses with a bored look on his face. Greta hoped she would find the perfect dress before he died of boredom. Just then, something caught her eye, a lavender dress with a short skirt, halter top, and intricate beading on the bodice. The skirt looked like a tutu, while still being elegant. That too, was added to the dressing room. After another half hour of searching, Susan came up behind Greta and politely cleared her throat. “Miss Falcone, I don’t mean to interrupt, but your Aunt Kiara has called. She was browsing our online store, and she requested you try on a specific ensemble she thinks you might like. If you don’t mind, I can put it in your room for you?” Greta wondered what it looked like. “Yes please, and I think I’ll start to try them on now.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Savio breathe a sigh of relief. Susan led her to the dressing room before retrieving the gown Kiara had picked out. Gemma and Savio waited outside the dressing room on plush chairs while sipping their champagne. 

Greta tried on the lavender dress first and went out to model for her family. “You look lovely!” Gemma said, but Savio let out a laugh. “If your dad saw you in that, he would flip his fucking lid! Sorry Dollface, but the skirt is too short, and the neckline is too deep. I don’t want to get killed, so next.” Greta groaned in disappointment and turned back to change into the blue dress. When she put it on, the top kept wanting to fall off of her. Greta held the bodice up and went to see her aunt and uncle again. When she got out, she said, “The top won’t stay up, and the material feels itchy. I don’t think I like this one. I don’t want to flash my guests!” 

“Your dad would have to kill them all.” Savio snickered, and Gemma gave him a look. “That color isn’t good on your skin tone anyway,” Gemma agreed. Before Greta turned back again, Susan came around the corner, holding up a dazzling red dress. It had a sweetheart neckline, long lace sleeves, and a full ball gown skirt with beautiful crystals making swirls and flowers all over the bodice. Greta gasped in awe at the sight. Susan followed Greta back into the dressing room and explained that the dress was a corset back, and she would need to tie it up once Greta put it on. After Susan finished tying the delicate ribbon, Greta stepped out. Gemma and Savio both took in a breath. 

“Dollface, you’ve never looked more like your mom.” Savio let out with a nostalgic look on his face. “You look so grown up! I can’t believe you aren’t still five!” Gemma said, going up to hug Greta. “I think this is the dress!” Greta exclaimed. Then she turned to face Susan, “I only have one question. Does it come in pink?”  
* * *  
When they pulled through the gates to the Falcone mansion, two big black SUVs sat out front. Gemma gave Savio a nervous look. 

“Our guests have arrived,” Savio said, not hiding the annoyance. He wasn’t any happier than his nephew was about the engagement, but he kept his opinions hushed around his niece. Greta was filled with nerves as she got out of the car, acutely aware of who was now inside. 

Despite the comments Nevio had made about her childhood crush, Greta had not cared to think about the future New York Capo in many years. She remembered him being gross and making her cry the last time she’d seen him. With that thought, she felt the sudden urge to run away and throw up, but she wasn’t sure what would happen first. Before they could even make their way to the door, Nevio burst outside, looking furious.

“I refuse to be in this house of lunatics!” Nevio shouted. Greta had never seen him like this before; he was beyond angry. “How dare they strut in here and act as if they own the place.”

Nevio headed towards his Bugatti, an early birthday present, opened the door, and got inside. The engine sprang to life, and Greta knew there was no stopping Nevio now, driving fast cars and punching things were some of the ways he relieved his anger. He was scarily like their father.

“Nevio!” Greta cried over the roar of the engine. By this point, everyone had filed out of the house and was watching the scene go down. Remo was in the lead, looking furiously at his son. Luca Vitiello followed behind, looking quite irritated.

“Greta this is your last chance, come with me, and I’ll take you away from this madhouse.” The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine, she had never seen Nevio so upset. Greta’s temple began to throb, this day had taken the worst possible turn, and it wasn’t even dinner time yet. Since she had been up at five, her feet hurt, she still had not gotten her dance positions down, found out she was about to become engaged to a stranger, walked in on her brother in the most unflattering way, was probably going to be late to her lesson in thirty minutes and now was standing in the same area as her almost fiancé and his family, and her brother was going crazy in the process. Greta wasn’t sure if she needed a hard drink or to punch something, but at the moment, either option sounded good.

Greta looked from her family to the Vitiello’s and back at her brother. She shook her head and said, “Nevio, you’re overreacting. Come back inside.” Nevio scoffed, cursed, held up the finger, and then sped off. He really did have a bad temper. 

Greta turned around to approach the crowd in front of her. Luca’s face read that he was on the verge of blowing up as well. Remo’s eyes were dark with fury like he was contemplating handing his son over to the Bratva so they could have their way with him. Serafina nervously bit on her lip as she always did when Nevio left in an angry rush. Nino and Kiara shared a look that said they were glad their sons hadn’t inherited the Falcone temper.

Remo turned to his guest, “Let’s get back to business; I will deal with him later.” Greta shivered, not wanting to be Nevio when their father got to him. 

Everyone shuffled back inside, except for one. Serafina and Aria both giving Greta and Amo small smiles as they left. The future Famiglia capo stood leaning against the door frame. He had grown taller, and with his dark eyes and black hair, it was apparent why people called him the Sandman. He looked like the darkness within him would swallow anyone whole. Greta hesitated before she made her way to the door. He stared at her intensely as if he knew something she didn’t. When she drew closer to him, and he didn’t move out of the way, she let out a soft “excuse me.” Amo smirked. Despite being quite tall for a girl, Amo towered above her, making her feel small. His dark hair fell over his forehead in all the right places, and his eye seemed lighter up close but darker than she remembered from when she last saw him.

“I must say, you really are beautiful.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The touch made Greta feel very exposed and underdressed in her shorts and oversized crew neck sweatshirt. “I can’t wait to see what you will look like in a few years. You’re already stunning for a girl of sixteen.”

Greta pulled away from his touch. “I need to get through.”

“Oh Twinkle Toes, don’t be so shy; I don’t bite.” His smirk turned into a dark shark-like grin.

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered, cringing as she remembered how he had tasted the blood off her toes years before.

He laughed and stepped aside, allowing Greta to hurry past him and head for her room. She had a ballet lesson in thirty minutes and was already running late. Had it not been for that, she might have gone to help her mom play hostess, but she would need time to prepare before being around the Vitiello’s for longer than a passing moment.

Greta rushed into her room and threw her shopping bag on the bed. She grabbed her black leotard with the strappy back and black tights; pulling them on quickly she followed them while throwing Nevio’s sweatshirt on over to cover herself up. It laid loosely and fell over one of her shoulders. Wrapping her wavy curls into a messy ponytail, she grabbed her bag and shoes and dashed out of the room.

Greta’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten anything since a few bites at breakfast. She decided that eating and being late was better than passing out during a lesson due to a lack of nutrients. She dropped her bag by the front door and headed to the kitchen. Grabbing an apple, she took a bite, snagged a bottle of water, and headed towards the game room. It was then she realized her ride had abandoned her. Nevio was the one who always drove her to her lesson. She sought after Alessio hoping to beg him to drive her instead.

Desperate to get to class, Greta cautiously stepped into the game room, her father, her uncles, Luca and Amo sat around discussing business. For the second time today, she appeared in front of her future fiancé and his father while not at all dressed for the occasion. The ladies must have gone out to the gardens because they were nowhere in sight. They all turned to look at her. Amo scanned her body up and down and then gave her a smirk. At this point, she became acutely aware that the big sweatshirt barely covered her butt. Greta felt the heat rise in her cheeks at his gaze. She quickly spoke, “Nevio usually drives me...” she stuttered “um...I have a lesson today.”

Savio stood up, looking like he would rather do anything than sit and discuss business, “I’ll drive you, Dollface.”

At the word, ‘dollface’ Amo cocked an eyebrow and smirked. He caught Greta’s eyes and mouthed ‘dollface.’ Her cheeks began to burn even redder, so she turned and hurried towards the door. That smirk was really starting to get annoying.

* * *  
There was no hiding the fact that Greta had grown into a woman. She was taller than the last time Amo saw her, and she had lost the rest of her baby fat in her face, and she had muscle, but not enough to be too much. She was perfect.

When Luca had mentioned marriage to Amo, he pushed it off, not bothering to care about it. Men in his position could afford to wait, and Amo was having too much fun to settle down. He didn’t see the point in marrying young. But when his father and mother sat him down and seriously had him think about it, Amo knew he couldn’t have just any girl. He had watched his mother over the years. It took grace and toughness to survive as the wife of a Capo.

It was his mother who pushed the idea of Greta. Instantly all the rumors of the “Royal Couple” floated into his mind. As he and Greta had gotten older, more and more people had whispered that they believed this was the only reason Vegas and New York were still peaceful. He shook off the idea remembering the little girl who wanted nothing but to dance. It was when his mother showed him a picture of the girl a few months ago, that he realized she had started to grow up. Seeing her today with his own eyes demonstrated to Amo that the picture didn’t even do her justice. She was still too young, and he knew that, but he was ready to make her, his in two short years. He had no reservations she could handle being his wife. She was a Falcone. His mind pulled up images of her dancing in pain while pretending all was fine. The whispers would soon be confirmed, and New York would get the “Royal Couple” so many seemed to think would make them unstoppable.

When the meeting with the Falcones was over the Vitiello’s left for their hotel, Amo was slightly disappointed Greta wasn’t back before they left. He wanted to see what else might have changed about the young woman since the last time he had seen her. He grinned, thinking about her revulsion when he called her Twinkle Toes and decided he would find more ways to make her blush, being his wife would, of course, knock that trait out of her. He wanted to enjoy it while he could. She still appeared to be shy and quiet, yet put together with subtle confidence. He knew these would be excellent characteristics for his future bride, and yet he wanted to see her let go. Between her father and her brother, she almost didn’t stand a chance; she wasn’t as unpredictable as she used to be, and all Amo wanted at the moment was to get her riled up. He was even looking more forward to this marriage alliance than he thought he would. After they got to their hotel suite, Amo plopped down on his queen-sized bed and closed his eyes, trying to get some rest.

“Amo, come into the living room. I need to speak with you,” He heard his dad call from the other room. Groaning, he rolled off his enticing bed and walked to the couch where his father sat. He guessed that his mother was resting in their bedroom. “Yes, sir?” Amo asked as he sat down.

“Amo, you’re going to be engaged this week.” Luca paused, but Amo remained silently waiting. He knew his father would get to the point eventually.

“I never would have believed my son would be marrying a Falcone.” Amo watched as his father took a deep drink of his scotch.

“Remo has always been a wild card, and it doesn’t look like his son will be any fucking better. They say that girl is the only one who can keep Nevio under control, but if today showed us anything, it’s that nobody can keep that kid under control.” Amo nodded in agreement. He had not anticipated a warm greeting in Vegas, but Nevio could learn to control his emotions better. Though from the stories his father had told him of Remo over the years, it seemed the boy was taking after his father. “At least he was clothed,” Amo said, stifling a laugh.

“I’ve already seen enough of his father, we don’t need to see that too,” Luca shuddered at the memory, “When he took over Vegas he did away with the traditions that many in our circle’s value.” Luca ran a hand through his dark hair and leaned back into the couch. 

“If you can find a way to pull it off, I need you to get Greta to agree to the bloody sheets tradition and to marry you in New York. She will be your wife and should listen to you. Her father wants the wedding here in fucking, shitty Vegas, and unless you can convince her, this whole idea may be doomed to fail before you even say ‘I do.’ Falcones have always been stubborn, though, so it might not be easy.” Amo nodded in response to his father’s request.

“Dad, don't worry. She’s gonna be a Vitiello. She will do what I tell her to do.”

Luca chuckled, “That’s the attitude of a man who hasn’t experienced marriage.”

“That little girl has sought my attention since we were kids. I’m her perfect fairy tale ending. Haven’t you heard we’re the Royal Fucking Couple of New York? I’ll put on a little charm, and she’ll agree to anything I ask.” 

“Good. I hate the fucking bloody sheets, but even I can’t do away with it. Changes have to be introduced subtly, and if we let Remo make his daughter wed in Las Vegas without the sheets, the soldiers won’t respect you or accept her as your wife. You must marry at the Vitiello mansion, and there must be blood.” Luca emphasized each statement with a slam of his drink filled fist on the coffee table, splashing his scotch around. Amo didn’t see what Remo’s problem was, it was just a little blood, but he also understood that it was his duty to give his men the right to be at the wedding. She would be a Vitiello. Marrying in New York made sense.

“I’ll talk to her as soon as an opportunity arrives. New York will have its ‘Royal Wedding,’ and the men will get their damn sheets.” Luca nodded in approval as he stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. Amo went back to his room and thought about how red Greta would turn when he brought up the bloody sheets tomorrow as he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter Five

Greta & Amo  
Amo 21, Greta 16  
That morning Greta got out of bed at five like she always did. She dragged herself into her closet to change into a leotard and leggings, then went down to the home gym and started her stretches. Yesterday's events had taken a toll on her, and she stayed up half the night thinking about it. Between the engagement and Nevio, she could feel the tension on her body. Needing to relieve some stress, Greta was happy to practice.

Greta started to bandage up her feet and then pull her slippers on. She struggled to get her right shoe on as her hallux was slightly swollen. Despite the pain and discomfort that came from her big toe, Greta gritted her teeth and dove into her Fountaine pointe spin.

The music that played flowed around her twirls and pliés as she let the music take control and just danced. The stress in her life disappeared, and the pain in her right foot temporarily subsided, and she spun and kicked mastering her Fountaine pointe. Feeling pretty proud of herself, she went at it again, sidestep, turn, and jump!

When she landed, a searing pain shot up her leg. Greta fell to the floor, clutching her foot. She carefully peeled off the shoe and unraveled her bandages, which had turned even redder. Greta assumed she must have pulled a muscle, but it wasn’t something she couldn’t handle. Pulling herself up, she limped towards the door. Savio had come running out in only boxers with his gun at the ready, as his room was closest to the gym, “Dollface! What happened, I heard a bang. Are you okay?” Greta leaned on the door for support, “I’m not in danger, but I hurt my ankle,” Savio put the gun down and scooped her up in his arms. He took her to the living room and laid her on the couch. “I’ll get Fina. She’ll know how to help you.” He ran up the stairs into her parent’s wing. 

Greta groaned, and she placed one of Kiara’s throw pillows under her now swollen foot and laid her head down. “I can’t go to my party like this,” She muttered under her breath. 

After several minutes, she felt a hand touch her forehead. She opened her eyes and saw golden hair. “Mom, I’m hurt, and I can’t get engaged looking like this!” 

Serafina gingerly picked up Greta’s foot and inspected it. “It looks like a sprain. There’s not much we can do besides keep you off of it. That’s going to be impossible! Do you need any ice?” Greta nodded, and Serafina went to gather some. After she put the ice on it, she felt a little better, but there was a much more pressing issue, “Do you think I’ll be okay to dance tonight?”

“Greta, you are strong. Just be careful, and you’ll be fine,” Serafina gave her a reassuring smile. “We will figure something out,” Serafina said, touching her daughter's cheek. “But just to be safe, we’ll call the doctor.” Serafina turned to walk away, then she paused at the door, “Happy birthday Greta.”

Soon Remo walked in looking furious, and Nevio not far behind. Nevio quickly came to Greta’s side, examining her feet. “Man Greta, it’s a good thing you got a pretty face because one look at those disgusting feet alone would send any man running.” Greta gave him an annoyed look and punched his shoulder. Nevio let out a small “ow” and rubbed his arm even though they all knew he had experienced far worse pain.

Greta watched as her father felt her foot. “I told you this would happen if you didn’t slow down. You have to give your body a break; you have to let it rest. You sure did inherit your mother's stubbornness.”

By the time the doctor arrived, everyone had huddled around Greta in the game room. All the doctor did was confirm it was sprained, recommended Advil, and told Greta to stay off it for a while.

Greta was not happy about the pain in her leg she had to deal with. It made walking up the stairs difficult, and she knew her high heels would be a big no-no.

About an hour before her party was to start, Amo and Luca arrived to go over more mafia business. Even on her birthday, her dad and apparently her future fiancé just had to work. She heard them talking downstairs, but she was in her room, finishing her makeup. She was swiping her lipstick on when Aunt Kiara walked in to check on her. 

“Hey, beautiful! I know I said it this morning, but happy birthday!” Kiara walked over to hug her niece. “I came to check on you, fix your hair, and help tie up your dress. Your mother is putting the finishing touches on the decorations at the party mansion. Do you need anything?” 

Greta looked at her leg and back up at her aunt with a look. “Well,” Kiara sighed, “I can’t help with that. But I can help you get dressed.” Kiara helped Greta step into the poofy dress, and she cinched her corset closed. “Thanks, Aunt Kiara, and thank you for picking out my dress! I love it! I hope you don’t mind that I went with the pink one!”

“It was a good call. Pink is your color.” Her aunt told her as she finished tying her dress closed. 

Greta wanted nothing more than to twirl in her big pale pink dress, but she tried to save her strength for the party. Instead, she just swayed her hips. “Can we show Dad before we pin up my hair?” Greta asked. Kiara nodded and hooked arms with her niece, and together they walked out to the top of the stairs. At the bottom of the grand staircase stood her father, Uncle Nino, Luca, and of course, Amo.

Remo looked up at her, “Bellisima Principessa, happy birthday! You look all grown up!”

“Thanks, Dad!” As she spoke to her father, her eyes self-consciously wandered to Amo. He was looking at her with a strange look on his face. She gave him her most regal smile, and in return, he hurriedly looked away and started talking to Luca. 

“I’m not going to head downstairs just yet. I still need to do my hair. I just wanted to show you my dress,” Greta said, feeling like a princess. “I’m trying to avoid walking up and down the stairs more than I have to,” Greta explained. 

Amo scoffed, “You can’t walk downstairs in heels, yet you can do ballet all day long?” 

“Amo you really should learn to enunciate, no one can hear you when you mumble,” Greta turned, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and walked back into her room, leaving Amo nettled.

* * *  
Nino had explained Greta’s injury from that morning, and he knew it would be hard for her to dance until it had healed. Five minutes before they left for the party, Amo leaned against the railing casually, waiting for Greta to make an appearance. He was confident he would get her to agree to his father’s wishes, but adding the charm early in their relationship would help ensure his success. That moment came soon after, as he heard the rustle of long skirts at the top of the stairs. He looked up and saw her standing there, preparing for the pain of descending. Half of her black curls were pulled neatly up and away from her face, and a few near-perfect tendrils fell off her shoulders. A slight blush was on her face, matching her pale pink dress perfectly. Greta looked more like a queen before a coronation than a sixteen-year-old girl; she took his breath away. 

“Amo,” Greta sighed in annoyance, not happy he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. ”You’re supposed to be getting in the car with everyone else.” Greta looked frazzled and nervous.

“I was waiting for you, Twinkle Toes,” He teased, “A princess should never walk down a staircase alone, especially not while injured.” Amo ascended the stairs, and without missing a beat, he picked her up bridal style and carried her down the steps. 

“What are you doing? How did you know I was hurt?” Greta asked, hooking her arms around his neck.

“I’m carrying you, what’s it look like I’m doing?” Amo laughed, completely ignoring her second question. Greta looked at him with amusement in her eyes as Amo reached the final step and put her down. “We have a birthday to celebrate, m’lady.” He offered his arm to her as if he was indeed a prince and not the future mob boss of New York. Greta stared at him suspiciously but graciously accepted. 

Together, they walked outside to the waiting cars. Amo opened the door for her and bowed in an exaggerated fashion. “Your chariot awaits.” He said with a laugh as Greta sat and pulled her skirts inside the vehicle. Remo was giving him another death glare from the rearview mirror. Greta gave Amo a small wave and said, “See you at the party.” And with that, he shut the door and walked to his own family’s car.

When they finished the short drive to the party mansion, Greta saw some of her friends and went to talk to them. The ballroom was cleared out, and there were several tables scattered around and a big space in the middle for dancing. A DJ had set up speakers with pop music blasting through the entire room. Guests were arriving, and many started enjoying the food or giving Greta soft hugs and engaging in conversation. Not long after the party began, the DJ announced the birthday girl and boy would be opening the dance floor with their first dances with their respective dates. She looked around the room in search of Nevio, but he was nowhere in sight. Was he going to miss their party?

Amo appeared beside her just as the first notes to the song she had chosen for the first dance played. She found being pulled into Amo’s arms was as natural as breathing. The previous times Greta had danced with him were from so long ago she couldn't honestly recall them, but she did know there was no way it could have been like this. One of his arms wrapped tightly against her waist, holding her closer than he ever would have when she was younger. Their waltz was flawless. Even though she didn’t dare look away from him, she could feel the eyes of all the guests upon them. The song ended opening up the dance floor for others almost as quickly as it began. Then her father stole her away from Amo for the second dance. The first hour of the night was everything Greta had wanted, except for her missing brother. She danced twice more with Amo and worked hard to ignore her twinging leg. It was when the adults began to drift off away from the main party room that Greta found herself resting at a table, enjoying the food and the company of her friends. 

It was while Aurora was asking Greta where she got her dress that she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Nevio walked through the doors, a girl on each arm, his tie loose and over his shoulder, and the top two buttons of his white shirt unbuttoned. The girls wore too much makeup and looked a good deal older than the cocky boy beside them. Abandoning the girls at the door and walking to the center of the room, Nevio raised his fists in the air and yelled, “Happy sixteenth birthday to my sister and me! Get ready to party!” Then as if he had given the DJ a signal, the music changed tempos, and the party turned into a bit more of a club scene. The delighted screams of the partygoers were near deafening. 

Girls surrounded Nevio and started dancing with him. Amo, observing the scene around him, quickly concluded that most of the women who had joined the party with Nevio were around his own age. There were quite a few boys of varying ages as well, and some older men Amo assumed were the guest’s bodyguards. There was still the small group of girls who had been sitting and talking with Greta at her table, and Amo almost felt bad for her. What had started as a party with her as the center of attention had quickly morphed to being all about Nevio. Even Greta’s guests seemed to only have eyes for her brother. Amo started to make his way over to see if she needed anything when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was one of the women Nevio came in with. Her dress was skin-tight, her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her hair cascaded around her bare shoulders in a flirty manner.

“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” She asked, with a hand on her hip. 

Amo rolled his eyes and said, “Nothing that involves you.” 

The unnamed girl scoffed and sauntered off. Amo started making his way towards Greta again when he noticed she vanished from her original spot. He cursed the annoying woman under his breath for distracting him and began searching for his soon-to-be-betrothed. It was easy to spot her, her dark hair and light pink dress had her standing out amongst party goers. While most of the girls were wearing lovely dresses, Greta stood out looking like a queen on the dance floor. His future queen, who was dancing with a boy. She looked happy as they spun around. She was laughing and talking to him with a grin on her face. Amo felt his blood start to boil as a protective rage stirred up inside him. ‘Had he not taken all of his mother’s advice? Had he not turned on the charm for her? He had spent the night acting the prince the stupid child had asked for. Now she would get to see the killer known as the Sandman, for that boy would not wake up when he got through with him’, that was the single thought that circled his mind while he was marching up to the dancing pair with clenched fists.

* * *  
Greta was having a wonderful time dancing with Angelo, one of Nevio’s friends from school. He wasn’t her prince, but she doubted Amo would notice. She had seen him talking to another girl, but she wasn’t going to let that ruin her night, she was determined to make the most of it and have fun anyway. She had a dance partner and her best friends, after all. She was doing a good job of ignoring the pain in her right leg, which had gotten worse little by little all night. Now it jolted every time she put too much weight on it. She ignored it, though, as she was having so much fun dancing and had been through worse. Angelo spun her out, but when she moved to spin back in, she found herself in the arms of someone much taller than Nevio’s friend. She looked up and saw Amo with a smirk on his face. “Where did Angelo go?” She asked him. Amo shrugged and said, “He knew what was good for him and went dancing with someone else.” 

Greta snuck a peek behind her prince and saw Angelo near the punch bowl, holding his eye. “What did you do? Punch him?” Greta asked with rising anger as they spun to the music. 

“He’s lucky if that’s all I do. I don’t want other guys' hands on you. We may not be engaged officially yet, but our fathers already shook on it. The rings and the party are mere formalities. You are mine Greta Falcone, and soon every man in Vegas will know it.” 

Greta had mixed feelings about being called ‘his.’ “I don’t belong to you Amo Vitiello, and I never will. We may be married one day, but I will always belong only to myself. You cannot officially lay claim to my name until a ring is placed on this finger.” She held up her left hand and shook her ring finder. You can’t tell me who I can and can’t dance with unless you’re willing to abide by the same rules yourself.”

Amo paused as the song came to an end and said, “You’ve made your point. But this,” Amo held up Greta’s left hand, “will be marked as mine by the end of the week, and you little girl should watch who you let near you or I will do a lot worse than leave bruises on them whether you like it or not.”

He walked off the dance floor and into the crowd. Greta shook off the strange encounter, but some part of her felt giddy that he was protective. She took a breath and went to find her twin. She found him in a corner, making out with a girl she didn’t recognize. His tie was nowhere in sight. 

“Nevio Falcone, control yourself,” Greta pulled him off the girl, “You promised Mom you wouldn’t leave your clothes lying around tonight. Now stop kissing, and let’s get some cake!” 

Nevio looked at the girl and shrugged. “It’s her party too. I’ll call ya.” And with a wink, he let his sister pull him to the table, holding their giant cake. When they reached the dessert table, Nevio pulled a knife from a holster under his pant leg and cut a big slice out of the back, plopping it on the plate Greta was holding.

“I think this is my favorite tradition,” He said as he grabbed two forks and handed one to his twin. “Mine too,” Greta replied as they started eating. The party continued in full swing while the two snuck away to a quiet area in the garden to eat their stolen dessert, and talk without the prying eyes of their guests.

“Nevio, why do you act like…ummm...” Greta trailed off, trying to find the right words without insulting him. 

“A manwhore?” Nevio finished. Greta blushed and nodded apologetically. Nevio put down his fork and sighed. “I’m a made man now sis. I have been for a few years already. My life hasn’t been easy since I was eight years old. I didn’t have it as bad as Dad did when he was a kid, but God, Greta, I’ve done things. I’ve seen things. This life isn’t easy for a man. I don’t talk about it because I’m trying to protect you from knowing the truth.” He took another bite of dessert and looked his sister in the eyes.

“I’m a monster, Greta. And it’s only gonna get worse as I get older. Days like this, I feel like I’m allowed to act my age for once. And even then, I am constantly aware of everything happening around me. I’m ready for a fight at any time. I’m ready to protect you at any time. Sex and girls, it’s the one thing I get to do for me. I’m the perfect soldier, and I will be the perfect Capo one day. At home and our birthdays are the only times I don’t have to be those things. I just get to forget everything I’ve done and will do for just a few moments before I have to face the truth again. And even that will be taken from me one day,” Greta felt her eyes tear up at the raw emotion in her brother’s voice. 

“The truth is, I’m not scared of much but I am terrified of losing you. You are the most important person in the whole world to me.” Nevio took another sad bite of cake as Greta wrestled with herself in her mind. She wanted nothing more than to hug her brother, but she didn’t want to make him look weak in front of the soldiers or the Vitiello’s, should any of them venture out of the party. She decided to put a hand on his arm instead. “Nevio, I love you more than anyone in the world. You’re the most important person in my life too. I promise that even after I move to New York, you will always be the most important person.”

“I love you too, Greta.”

They each took one last bite of cake before Nevio said, “Will you dance with me?” Grinning, Greta accepted, and the two made their way back inside.

About an hour later, the music stopped, and they heard an announcement that it was time for cake. Everyone gathered around to sing happy birthday to the young pair. Serafina gave a disapproving shake of her head when she noticed a portion already missing. When the singing began, Nevio stood up proudly and pretended he was directing an orchestra, and Greta shrunk back, trying to hide behind him. The singing was always her least favorite part of their birthday. After the awkward song ended, the cake got passed around, and the regular music started back up again.

It was nearing midnight, and the party was winding down. The DJ announced the last song and a slow song started playing. Greta felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Amo. “May I have this dance?” He asked, holding out his hand. Smiling, she took it, and they started swaying to the music. Amo held her a bit possessively but was careful to keep her at arm’s length. She suspected it was because the adults had rejoined the party and could see her father watching them like a hawk. They danced in silence for the duration of the song, and right before the clock struck midnight, Amo leaned in and whispered, “Happy Birthday Twinkle Toes.” He kissed her on the forehead as the clock struck midnight.


	6. Chapter Six

Greta & Amo  
Amo 21, Greta 16  
Amo had more doubts about proposing to a child on the flight to Nevada than he did now. After seeing her for the past two days and spending time with her, he felt confident that she was mature enough to handle being the wife of a Capo. He knew he wouldn’t have to marry her for another two years, so he had plenty of time to entertain women of his own age before the shackles of marriage held him back. What Greta didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. He also knew lots of made men cheated on their spouses with whores and outsiders, but he didn’t want to be like them. Witnessing the bond and trust a faithful marriage had created for his parents made him want the same. He genuinely wanted to take care of his wife and respect her for who she is. He wanted a marriage like his parents. 

It was just before lunchtime when the Vitiello’s made their way back to the Falcone mansion. After saying hello to everyone and adjourning to the sitting room, Amo’s eyes landed on Greta. She was just wearing jeans and a soft scoop neck pink t-shirt, but she was beautiful. Their parents were deep in conversation about business, and the engagement party, and Amo took his chance to speak to his bride-to-be privately.

“Hey Twinkle Toes,” Amo said as they sat down on a couch on the opposite end of the room. “I need to talk to you about our wedding.” He softly spoke so he couldn’t be overheard and motioned for her to do the same. “Your dad is kinda pushing not to keep the Vitiello traditions, and since you’re gonna be a Vitiello, I would like to have you at my side when I push to uphold my family's traditions.” Greta looked confused.

“What traditions?”

Amo took a deep breath and searched for words that wouldn’t send the poor girl running for the hills. “First of all, getting married in my family mansion. My men have a right to be there. Your father is insisting we hold the wedding here in Vegas.” 

Greta let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, is that all? I’ll talk to him. I figured we would have the wedding up there anyway. It just makes sense.” She moved to get up, but Amo put a hand on her arm, and she sat back down. “There’s more?” She asked, confused. 

“Greta, there’s a thing about our traditions that neither I nor my father like, but it’s something we can’t avoid. Your dad is adamant against it, and you’re the only one who has an overall say. I need you to tell him you’re okay with the bloody sheets.” Greta went pale. Amo could almost see the wheels turning in her head. 

“What are ‘bloody sheets’?” She looked almost afraid to ask. “You’re not going to cut me, are you? Because if that’s the kind of a marriage this is going to be, I don’t accept.” 

He noticed Nevio watching his sister and started to make his way over. Amo shook his head, “No, no not like that. I may not be a good man, but I promise that I would never hurt you. The ‘bloody sheets’ are a tradition that we’ve had for generations. It’s proof of the new bride’s virtue. After the wedding night, the married women of the family come to the couple’s bedroom and collect the sheets they consummate their marriage on. If there’s blood, it means the woman stayed a virgin and was pure. It’s disgusting and degrading, but it’s what the people want.”

While Amo was talking, Nevio sat next to his sister and put an arm around her, “That’s barbaric. You don’t have to do this, Greta. Do you really want to be humiliated like that in front of both of our families? Do you really want to marry somebody who would make you do that?” Greta thought for a moment.

“But what if Greta’s not a virgin?” Nevio said contemplatively. Amo looked shocked. Greta gave Nevio a look as if questioning something through her eyes. The look on Greta’s face morphed into one of understanding; she knew the game Nevio was playing.

“You’re not a virgin?” Amo said the words louder than he meant.

Greta was thankful the parents were engrossed in their own conversation otherwise, her dad would have reacted possibly worse than Amo.

“The Camorra doesn’t hold up the same traditions as the Famiglia,” Nevio said nonchalantly. “We don’t care if our women are virgins; all we need is loyalty.”

Nevio grinned at Greta proud of his scheme. The twins could be quite devious when they worked together.

“I don’t believe this!” Amo said angrily, “When those sheets aren’t red, you will be ruined! I will have no choice but to shame you.”

With one more sly look at each other, Greta and Nevio burst out laughing. Amo was confused and angry at the sudden laughter. How could they think this would be okay? “Who is he?” Amo growled, “Who took what was mine?”

“Calm down Amo,” Greta said casually, “It was only a joke. I’m a virgin.” 

Nevio looked disappointed that the game was over so soon. Amo didn’t look amused. “Your virtue is not something to joke about.” 

“Relax,” said Nevio, draping a protective arm around his sister. “The Camorra may not follow your barbaric traditions, but you think I’d let just any guy slum it with my sister? You think my father would allow any guy to talk to Greta, let alone fuck her.”

“Anyway,” Greta muttered, not wanting to see how far Nevio would take this, “In regards to the bloody sheets, I don’t like it at all. It sounds embarrassing and I understand why Dad is against it; it’s vulgar!” This time it was her voice that raised, and the set in her jaw reminded him eerily of when his mother put her foot down. 

“However,” with that small word came a glint in her eye that Amo didn’t like, “I might be willing to agree.”

“You can’t be se-” Nevio’s protest was cut off by Greta holding up her hand towards him.

“Yes, I could handle the bloody sheets and talk my father into it, if…” Amo held his breath at her words this girl was no longer blushing in fact, she was holding herself in such an assured manner that he knew whatever it was she wanted in return would not be something she would relent on. After a dramatic pause, she looked directly into Amo’s eye with more confidence than a girl her age would usually be able to display, “if and only if you also keep yourself pure until our wedding night.” Amo almost laughed, but Greta continued without so much as blinking, “I’m not an idiot, and I know you’re not a virgin, but if I can’t so much as dance with any boys except you, then you can’t do the horizontal tango with any women except me from now on. If I find out you do, and I will find out, then I will not consent to your traditions. Which means I won’t even sleep with you on our wedding night.” At that, Nevio had a fire in his eyes that screamed death.

“You can’t do that, I have rights,” Amo protested, “You belong to me and are supposed to keep yourself pure. I don’t have to.” Greta firmly crossed her arms once again, reminding him of his mother. “I am not a docile little girl. I may be shy, but I’m still a Falcone, and I deserve respect. If you sleep with another woman before we marry, there will be blood on those sheets, but it sure as hell won’t be mine!” 

Nevio clenched his fist, “If you disrespect my sister, I won’t sleep until you’re dead.”   
Amo ran a hand through his hair. His mind conjured images of his father and mother. His father told him many times over the years that a happy wife who was loyal was the most precious thing a made man could ever ask for. His Uncle Matteo always told him that keeping the women happy was what gave them something good to go home to at the end of the day. He had to get her to agree to New York and the sheets. No matter what.

“What’s wrong, Amo?” Greta quietly asked when he hadn’t responded quickly enough for her, liking, “Are you not strong enough to stay away from the opposite sex?” Her words were a challenge.

‘If I want a peaceful marriage, I have a duty to make my wife happy. If she isn’t happy with me, Remo won’t be happy with me. Nevio sure as hell won’t be happy with me either and I’m not sure which is worse at this point. Either way, that means war, which some people want anyway except I also have a duty to my men to uphold their customs, so fuck me. I can’t back down from a challenge. I’m Amo Fucking Vitiello nothing is too hard for me’ “Fine. You have my word. I won’t sleep with another woman until our wedding night. But you better make it worth it.”

Greta stuck out her hand, and Amo reluctantly shook it. He regretted ever choosing her in the first place. But he was stuck now. Might as well get it over with, then. He stood and pulled Greta to her feet; Nevio followed them with a frown. The trio found the rest of their respective family members in the garden. As they approached, Amo cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we are here to further the marriage alliance between the New York Famiglia and the Las Vegas Camorra. Remo, with your blessing, I intend to marry your daughter Greta.” Remo gave a nod of his head, but if looks could kill, Amo would be dead. 

“Greta Falcone, in front of your family and mine I ask you to be my wife.” Still standing tall, he pulled a ring box out of his coat pocket, opened it, and offered it to the girl standing at his side.

Greta looked at the ring and her family that surrounded her. By taking this ring, she would now be under the authority of the Famiglia, and yet she also knew that her acceptance was just for show “I will marry you,” Greta said softly. She didn’t like all the attention on her. Amo had learned this about her and made a big to-do of his proposal as payback for her joke and conditions. He took the ring out of the box and placed it on her finger.

The was a 3 carat diamond on a rose gold band with little diamonds intertwining around it. It was unlike anything Greta had ever seen. After he placed the ring on her finger, he kissed her hand. A soft blush crept onto Greta’s cheeks as all the women clapped in excitement.

“Well, Twinkle Toes, I’ll see you in a few days.” Amo turned to leave the room. “Where are you going?” She asked. “Laughlin with Dad and Adamo. We’re looking at some cars to buy. I’ll be back in time for our party.” Greta nodded as the three men left the house. As soon as the door shut, she was swarmed with the ladies in her family and Aria as they all started talking to her at once. She felt growing panic as she tried to acknowledge everyone, but the stress of what just happened was getting to her. She held up her hands and said, “Excuse me for a minute,” And she broke through the ring of people and ran down the rows to her favorite spot in the garden.

After a few minutes of sitting alone, Nevio was by her side; he slumped down to the ground beside her, where she sat staring at the ring on her hand. 

“Nevio,” she whispered after a while, “I’m scared. Not of Amo, but I’m scared of leaving home. Leaving you.” Nevio nodded in understanding. 

“Listen, you don’t have to leave. You don’t have to marry Amo. It hasn’t been announced publically yet. You can give him the ring back and marry someone from the Camorra and stay in the mansion with us. Or at least move to one of the other mansions we own around here.” 

Greta sighed, “I can’t do that. If I break off our arrangement, that would mean war. I don’t want to start a war because I’m scared of moving. That could get someone I love killed, like you or Dad.”

“It’s worth a war. You know every single person inside that mansion would risk war if you didn’t want to go through with this decision, and they wouldn’t think twice about it. You just have to say the words.” Nevio took Greta’s hand. “You’ve heard of the Famiglia and how they treat their women. If you marry Amo, you’ll never be able to dance again. Something will happen one day, and war will break out regardless of your marriage. Even Amo knows this, and when that happens, you’ll never see me or our family again. You’ll be horribly abused and all alone, while he’s sleeping with all the whores in New York. You won’t even have any female friends because they will all see you as an outsider and never accept you as one of them. Think about it. Please just think about it. You know mom’s origin. She hasn’t seen her twin brother or even her little sister since she chose our family over the Outfit.”

“Nevio, we made a deal. You heard him. He won’t touch another girl until we get married. So at least he’s willing to listen to me. Besides this marriage, Dad and Luca shook on it.” Greta sighed. “I promise to think about it, though. Can I please just be alone for now?” Nevio squeezed Greta’s hand and left her in her solitude to be alone with her thoughts. 

‘Would Amo abuse me? I’ve heard how ruthless the Vitiello’s are. His dad is called The Vice for a reason. Even Amo was referred to as the Sandman because people claimed he knocked a man out so hard that the guy never woke up when he was twelve. Maybe I shouldn’t marry him. But didn’t he try to protect me when I was twelve? If he was going to hurt me, he wouldn’t have cared about my feet. Then there was the party he was so kind, or at least until he saw the dance with Angelo. He did promise he would never hurt me. Maybe Nevio’s just overreacting. There are too many risks calling this engagement off. This marriage has to happen.’

* * *  
Three days later, Luca, Amo, and Adamo had returned and it was time to celebrate their engagement. Remo made it obvious he thought the party was a waste of time, but the women were extremely excited and had planned every detail. Greta had assumed the event would be something that she could have a say in, but she quickly learned that this event was one that had to be perfect due to her and Amo’s positions within their two families. Greta stood in front of the floor-length mirror staring at herself in the “dress.” What she would wear had been a point of contention within her family, each woman had a different point of view. The matter was considered settled when a care package arrived with a dress and a card stating it was for the engagement party. 

To the Future Mrs. Vitiello,

The honor of being a Vitiello woman comes with many, many perks. We hold ourselves in high standards, and all of society is watching our every move. While I can not attend your engagement party, I wanted to ensure that your first night as a wife to our future Capo is one to be remembered. Consider this gift my token as a way to welcome you into the family. You will be the center of attention with this dress. I had my favorite stylist design it just for you.

Amo will love seeing you in it,  
Nina Vitiello

It was from Amo’s grandmother, and as traditions go in the Famiglia, they knew insulting his grandmother would probably be a bad idea. 

Greta tugged at the hem of this dress that stopped way too high up her thigh and cut way too low at her chest. Greta thought herself pretty conservative yet fashionable when dressing compared to many girls her age, not that she would even be allowed to wear half of what most girls her age wore. Her Dad and uncles would lock her in a tower forever if they ever saw her wear anything showing slightly too much skin; Greta wished they’d do it tonight. ‘This is ridiculous!’ Greta thought. ‘The engagement is already in the bag, no one's backing out now, so why do I have to dress like something that just crawled out of the Sugar Trapp?’ 

Greta eyed the heels her mom had picked out for her to wear with the dress. With those on, she’d look like a high-class hooker. Deciding against it, Greta went to her closet and pulled out a pair of flats. Even if she couldn’t get away with wearing a different dress, she could probably justify the shoes. With one last tug and pull Greta gave a shaky sigh and headed out the door.

As she walked through the corridor alone she felt naked and uncomfortable. When she heard the familiar murmurs of her family's voices waiting for her in the living room she wanted to turn and run. She never felt uncomfortable around her family, but wearing this, all Greta wanted to do was be invisible. Greta padded into the room, hoping to draw as little attention to herself as possible. As soon as she stepped in all eyes turned to her, Greta felt her cheeks warm, and she looked down, tracing the wood grain of the floorboards with her eyes..

“Does she really have to wear that?” Nevio asked protectively. Greta caught her twin's eye and was grateful for his question.

“Amo’s grandmother sent it for tonight,” Remo said with an edge.

“Last time I checked, Greta was still a part of the Camorra.” Nevio scoffed.

“Watch it,” Remo warned his son. “I don’t like this any more than you do but she’s going to be part of their family soon.”

“So flaunting your daughter around looking like some fucking whore is okay? By the looks of this dress, they’re gonna turn her into one!” Nevio was looking for a fight.

“Why don’t we all take a deep breath” Serafina chimed in, trying to calm both her men down.

“How could she pick something this obscene for me to wear?” Greta questioned her mother.

“Greta-” her mother started, but she was cut off.

“There are many other dresses that don’t require me looking like one of the whores Nevio gets off with at the Sugar Trapp. It’s like she walked in and borrowed one of their dresses and then slapped a designer label on it. Even Aria said an elegant dress would do! Maybe she dressed like this when she got engaged, but making me do the same thing is just degrading” Greta was getting irritated with the whole thing.

Serafina looked shocked at her daughter's words. Remo snapped “Greta; you aren’t wearing that. I am Capo here, and what I say goes. Just because you are marrying him does not mean you do what they want; it’s only an engagement! If it means wearing a dress that leaves you practically naked and upset in front of the Famiglia, they will damn well get over it. I don’t care what that boy or his family says. You are my little girl and you will always be my little girl.”

Determination filled Greta. Her father was preposterous. She was engaged; she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Perhaps this dress was a test from Amo’s family, and perhaps they didn’t think she could handle living in their society. 

“No, I’m wearing this stupid dress.” Greta gritted out between her clenched teeth. “I’m not a little girl! I will prove that to you and the Vitiello’s.” Nevio looked even angrier at the entire situation, but seeing his sister’s determination; he knew there was nothing left to say. He went over to Greta, took his suit jacket off, and put it on Greta’s shoulders as if to cover her up more.

“Nevio!” Greta shouted angrily at the gesture.

“You want Dad to start a bloodbath before we even get to your engagement party?” Nevio whispered. Greta shook her head. “Then take the damn jacket and don’t push it.”

The Falcone family left soon after that to head to the party mansion and present Greta to her soon-to-be groom. Greta was practically shaking during the short ride down the street. She clung to Nevio’s arm like she might fly away if she let go. She never liked being the center of attention unless she was dancing. When she danced she could block the audience from her mind and focus on the music and moving her body. But there would be no music this time. She would have to face the crowd of people exposed, and they would all leer at her in her tiny dress.

When they arrived at the mansion, her mother gave her a big hug, and her parents walked inside to wait with the rest of the guests. Greta took a few deep steadying breaths and paced up and down the length of their Audi, trying to expel as much nervous energy as she could. Nevio took her arm and stopped her. “You don’t have to do this. We can get back in this car and drive away and you could be free.” Greta shook her head, “I can’t. That would destroy our parents and you know that.” Nevio looked like he might take her away regardless. “Let’s get this over with,” Greta said as she grabbed Nevio’s arm and walked inside the mansion.

Greta stood in front of the big grand doors of the ballroom. She wore Nevio’s jacket over her shoulders still and she wished she could keep it on when she walked in. Nevio stood next to her and squeezed her hand. “I will be standing next to you the whole time,” Greta gave him a shaky smile. “But I need my jacket back, you aren’t supposed to walk in there wearing it, but you know I don’t care what any of those fuckers think.” Greta reluctantly took off the jacket and gave it to her brother. He slipped it on then, with one last smile at Greta, Nevio pushed the door open.

All eyes in the room turned to Greta. She contemplated turning around, running out the door, and joining a witness protection program so she would never have to see any of them again. Nevio put his hand on her shoulder and led her forward. By the look of the men in the room, Greta now realized why she was never allowed to wear things like this normally. She felt like a deer in headlights by all the unsettling looks she received. Now she really wished she’d listened to her father and not worn the dress.

Amo was staring at her with a dark look she couldn’t give a name to. She felt her brother’s grip tighten on her shoulder as they walked toward her fiancé. Amo extended his hand and she took it without hesitation. She needed to look powerful and in control, even if she felt scared and cornered. One of the hired servers held out a tray with two flutes of champagne. Amo took one and offered it to Greta, then raised his own glass. Together they turned and faced the crowd of guests, “ A toast,” Amo began, “to my lovely future bride and our families. As you all know, I intend to marry Greta after her eighteenth birthday. With this wedding, we will strengthen this bond of peace between the Famiglia and the Camorra. Let us now raise our glasses to peace, the peace our families had held for nearly two decades, may we all thrive and prosper both now and in the future.” 

“Salud!” He said. Their families and guests parroted his toast. “Salud!” Cheers and clinking glasses could be heard throughout the room. 

While everyone began to converse Amo wrapped a firm arm around Greta’s waist. For one crazy moment, Greta thought he was leaning down towards her to steal a kiss, but his lips landed next to her ears and while his tone was soft it was anything but kind.

“What the hell do you think you are wearing?” He growled out causing Greta to freeze.  
“Is this some kind of a joke?” He continued his hand on her waist gripping the skin-tight material on her hips. “First you claim to not be a virgin, then you walk in here looking like a high dollar prostitute. Tell me this was your father’s idea.”

Greta wanted to run and cry, but instead, she held back her tears and threw back her glass of champagne. She felt like fainting as the alcohol burned down her throat. She was glad people were too busy chattering amongst themselves to notice the tension between her and her future groom. 

“If you must know,” Greta finally said after composing herself enough to make sure her voice wouldn’t crack, “This dress was a gift.”

Amo laughed darkly, “What twisted person would think it is okay to dress a girl your age in something like this?”

“Your grandmother.” Greta snapped back before pulling herself out of his grasp and heading to grab another glass of champagne. If she was going to make it through this night, she was going to need more than the one glass her parents usually allowed her. It was as Greta began her fourth glass that she felt a rage building inside of her. She felt like her life was spinning out of control. Greta was mad at her father for arranging her marriage. She was mad at Nevio for making it harder to accept her fate. She was angry with Luca for forcing his traditions on her. She was mad at Amo for being so calm about the whole thing. But most of all, Greta was mad at herself. She was a Falcone; her father had taught her to stand up for herself, but ever since she found out about her engagement she had strived to not cause waves. By not standing up for herself she had allowed this to happen. Greta felt the urge to do something stupid. Something brash and not like her. She felt a burning need to take control of her own life back. 

It wasn’t long before everyone left the parlor room to head to the ballroom, after congratulating the couple. Nevio was reluctant to leave Greta alone with Amo, but to her surprise, their father pushed him out. It was then Greta realized Amo must have requested to be able to speak with her alone, and with the ring in place, the wedding was now nothing more than another formality. “Well Twinkle Toes, it looks like it’s just you and me now. Can you please tell me why the hell a good kid like you, would ever agree to wear a dress like that?” 

Greta felt more anger build up at his words. She wasn’t a kid, she wore the stupid slutty dress his family sent to her out of respect. She handled every situation he threw at her with as much maturity as possible. She had done everything she could to be kind to him and his family. She needed to release her pent up feelings and prove that she was old enough to handle herself, and obviously there was only one way her fiancé would stop thinking of her as a child. 

Greta walked to the door her family just left out of and clicked the lock into place. She was done with pleasantries. If Amo wanted someone who was supposed to be good and pure and anything but what this dress made her feel, then he wouldn’t have the reputation he had. She wanted to rebel. She was tired of being a good girl. Hadn’t his grandmother said he would like the dress? Wasn’t his own family the ones who wanted the ridiculous bloody sheets? How could they want her to be pure and dress like a hooker? Amo placed a hand on Greta’s seething shoulder completely unaware of the eruption taking place within her.

After years of not only ballet but also practicing in the fighting ring with her Aunt Gemma, it was second nature for Greta to spin on Amo. She had to have caught him by surprise as she used her body weight to slam him against the wall beside the door.

“Greta, what are you doing?” Amo asked her. He obviously didn’t consider her a threat as he hadn’t so much as attempted to stop her. Greta was so close to him she could feel Amo’s body heat from the small distance between them.

“Something I’m not supposed to,” Greta said, before filling the gap between them and using her hand on his neck to pull him down into a very forceful kiss. It caught Amo off guard at her actions, but who was he to resist a kiss from a girl like Greta. Their lips were melding together, each pushing and pulling for dominance, soon one of his hands moved up to cup her face. He stroked a thumb across her cheek, as he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. He ran his hands down her bare arms and backed her up against the wall, but a voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let the kiss go any farther. He didn’t want to stop, but he knew she was only using him as a distraction, trying to prove a point or something. Amo wasn’t sure what it was about, but he had to stop it.

Amo reluctantly pulled away from her and Greta looked at him exasperated. “Greta this isn’t right.”

“What?” she asked, confused, her eyes glassy from too many flutes of champagne.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, you’re drunk and you could get in a lot of trouble if your family found out.”

“That’s the point! I’m sick of this whole thing, of just having to go with it. I’m tired of this dress and their demands and all the crap that everyone expects of me with no consideration as to how I feel. You all think I am old enough to get engaged, and yet you treat me like a little girl. I want to prove that I’m not. I’m not just some kid that you all can just boss around.”

“Normally, I would be all for making your parents mad, and trust me; this would piss off your father if he knew how close I’m holding you right now. Not to mention that you taste sinfully delicious. In fact, having that sample will make waiting even harder, but I’m not a child fucker. We will wait until you’re legal and my wife.” Amo slowly spoke as he slid his hands down her bare shoulders towards her elbows.

“Are you kidding me?” Greta practically yelled “You are literally a man whore, I’ve heard the rumors. You’ve slept with countless girls without a second thought. I had to make a compromise just so you would be faithful to me, and now you choose to be decent?”

“I may be a killer and we may be engaged, but you are still a child, no matter how you act and dress. I can’t and won’t take advantage of you. I’m not a pedophile and I will not give anyone reason to believe that I am. This is my reputation too, kid!” Amo tried to step away from the wall and out of her grasp, but Greta used his weight against him, shoving him back into the wall. She tangled her hands in his hair and kissed him again, softer, but with more passion.

“I’m your fiancée Amo. I’m not a kid in this world. I’m tired of being treated like one. I’m sick of being decent.” The taste of champagne on her lips and the smell of her perfume were clogging Amo’s senses and he almost moved to kiss her again, when he paused. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Greta. I really don’t. I know you’re upset, but this isn’t going to help. Let’s get to the ballroom and suffer through the rest of this damn party, then I’ll go back to New York and you can dance your heart out for the next two years. You don’t need to think of me again after I leave, until our wedding. But I promise I won’t stop thinking of you.” With that, Amo stole one final kiss from her lips, “Sweet sixteen indeed.” he mumbled and then pulled her around to where they were facing the door that would lead towards their party and take them away from her rebellion that he had enjoyed more than he should have. Amo was pulled away from her almost as soon as they entered the ballroom by his father. Nevio appeared at his sister’s side with two slices of cake in hand. Greta took her traditional slice of hijacked cake and dug in. Grateful that some things never change. 

“Luca was pissed at his stepmom when Dad told him she sent the dress. Apparently, she wasn’t invited for a reason.” Nevio told his sister. 

“I kinda got that feeling from Amo,” Greta replied between bites. Each morsel of the vanilla cake absorbing some of the alcohol and bringing a little bit of sobriety to her.

“Is that what he was talking to you about? He has no right to tell you what you can and can’t wear.” Nevio’s rage had him swallowing his cake practically whole. Greta thought that ironic considering his outburst against her wearing this dress.

“More or less,” Greta whispered with her cheeks heating.

They were interrupted when their Aunt Kiara called everyone for dinner. Greta had to sit by Amo and so she would be separated from her brother once again, but as she walked away Nevio slipped his coat over her shoulders. “You need to do what is best for you sis. Not everyone else.” When Greta took her place at Amo’s side he gave her brother’s coat an odd look and then leaning forward he wiped a bit of icing from the corner of her mouth with a chuckle and a smirk. He and his family left the next day, and Greta was more confused about her feelings than ever before.


	7. Chapter Seven

Greta  
Amo 22, Greta 17

‘This is crazy.’ Greta thought as her feet stepped off the plane and into New York. The plane ride was a good four and a half hours. Nevio slept the whole time while Greta listened to Butterfly Waltz on repeat going through her routine in her mind. She felt nervous and considered giving up on the idea every second until the plane took off. Now, as she followed Nevio through the crowded JFK airport she knew there was no going back. In a few hours, her parents would probably figure out they were gone and she’d never get another chance like this in her life.

It was 7:00 am when they landed in New York, it would be 4:00 am in Las Vegas. The twins had snuck out of the house at 2:00 am and booked it to the airport, only barely making their flight.

“I can’t believe you didn’t sleep at all the whole flight,” Nevio said as he pulled his sister through the airport. “You are going to crash at your audition. Literally, you’ll be doing one of those jump things and exhaustion will hit and I’ll be the one having to drag your ass back home with a broken leg or arm.”

“I’m not going to crash.” Greta huffed as she pushed out of the terminal doors, embracing the city for the first time. Nevio stretched his arms above his head with a loud groan, “I fucking hate commercial flights! Why didn’t we just take our jet?”

Greta rolled her eyes at her brother’s complaints, “The pilot would have told Mom and Dad. Besides, we flew first class, you had an entire aisle to yourself. What is there to complain about?”

“The in-flight entertainment of course. They don’t have my favorite stewardess on commercial flights.” Nevio said with implication in his voice and a wink.

“You’re just upset because the stewardess wouldn’t give you a quickie in the bathroom.” Greta scoffed. “News flash Nevio, no one outside of Las Vegas knows who you are and is eager to get you to ‘take them for a ride.’”

“You didn’t like the line, take them for a ride?” Nevio scoffed, “ Really? It took me three hours to come up with that! I would be a great Pilot, any girl would be happy to take a ride on my airplane.” 

Greta shook her head with laughter, “It really is amazing that you lost your virginity let alone have managed to get any girls to come home with you.”

The cold air hit them as they stepped out of the terminal, causing Nevio to shiver and end his argument. They had of course been to New York as children, but Greta didn’t remember much of it. Sadly, it looked a bit disappointing compared to home. Regardless, today was her day and she was ready for it, with a new sense of excitement boiling within, she headed towards a taxicab that was idling by for travelers to take a ride. 

“What makes you think I would step foot in that piece of shit?” Nevio said, making a face. ‘Sometimes he could act so spoiled.’ Greta thought she gave a frustrating shake of her head. “I want the real New York experience. Plus no one can know we are here, and having a driver chauffeur us around doesn’t look normal.” Greta happily opened the taxi door and hurried in with Nevio grumpily sliding in after her.

“Where to?” the driver asked. He had a Brooklyn accent. Greta didn’t know if she liked it, but she did enjoy having someone speak in such a way that emphasized they had really made it.

“Julliard!” Greta grinned. She was so excited to be here, all her shyness seemed to go away.

“Ahh, I see we got ourselves a talented one here. What are you auditioning for?”

“Ballet,” Greta replied. Finding her eyes unable to focus on one location as they drove out of the airport. She wanted to see everything.

“Well let me be the first one to tell you ‘welcome to New York!’” The driver pulled away from the curb and took off down the road.

Greta beamed with delight, and Nevio rolled his eyes. He wasn’t as keen to be there as Greta. “Thank you!” Greta said with a big smile.

“Is this your first time in the big apple?” the man asked.

“Yes, we’re just here for my audition,” Greta shared excitedly. The buildings began to grow in size as they approached the famous city.

“And then we’re leaving.” Nevio firmly stated looking straight at his sister. Despite her lack of sleep, she had suddenly gained so much energy. 

“That’s a shame, you should take the time to look around.” The driver replied before laying on his horn and yelling at a pedestrian, “GET OUTTA THE ROAD, YOU MORON! I’M DRIVIN’ HERE!” 

“She’ll be back in a few months,” Nevio spat. The driver must have assumed her brother meant back to attend Julliard, but Greta knew he was talking about her upcoming marriage. Despite Nevio’s attitude, the bustling city had enraptured her and nothing could bring her down.

“Do you know any good coffee shops or somewhere we could stop for breakfast near Julliard?” Greta asked the driver, her voice giving a little extra squeak of excitement when she said the name of her dream school. The driver took a sharp turn and stopped in front of a Starbucks located next to a laundromat.

“Will this do?” the driver asked as other drivers honked at their cab and flipped him the finger for stealing the only free spot. Nevio took one look at the laundromat next door, shook his head no, and opened his mouth to protest when Greta popped in and said “This is great! Thank you so much!”

Before Nevio could even finish throwing some cash at the cab driver, his sister was already out on the pavement spinning with glee.

“Thank you!” Greta told the man as her brother joined her. The driver nodded and pointed to the other side of the street ‘The school of American Ballet’ it read. 

“There's your school right there. Good luck, miss!” and then he pulled away, forcing many other cars to slam on their brakes as he cut them off. Greta looked around the street in awe. Apartments sat on top of the Starbucks, a laundromat sat next door, and across the street was the Lincoln Center, and a fire station inside the same building. It was so busy like Vegas and yet so completely and utterly different.

“I don’t see the appeal,” Nevio said looking around at the tall buildings.

“Come on let’s get some coffee and a bagel or something, I’m starving.” Greta pulled Nevio through the glass doors. Three shots of espresso and a cinnamon bagel later Greta was ready for her audition.  
Amo  
“I don’t have any information!” The sad excuse for a man groveled at Amo’s feet.

“I’ll just have to keep it up until you remember then,” Amo said as he took his knife and slammed it onto the table, taking Sam, the traitors, ring finger off in the process. Screams of agony filled the room as the slime fell to the ground, sobbing and cradling his bloody hand to his chest. 

“The Bratva is going to attack the Sphere one week from today. They have plans to break into the office and steal any paperwork they can find. I told them where it all is. I swear I don’t know any more about it!” Sam spit out blood coming from his three missing teeth. Amo nodded at a soldier standing by the door, who left to relay the information to the men at the Sphere so they could move the papers and prepare for a fight.

“See? I knew you had it in you. Anything else you need to tell me?” Amo held back a maniac laugh as he knelt down, grabbed the man’s hair, and pressed his blade into his throat. Not deep enough to kill him, but just enough that beads of blood sprang up around his shirt collar. As Amo was adding more pressure, the door opened again.

“Sandman, you have a phone call from your father,” Amo wore the nickname with pride. Without moving his knife he asked, “Can it wait, James? I’m kinda busy,”

“He said it’s urgent,” James said, and Amo released Sam with an annoyed sigh. He put his knife back in his chest holster and stood up. 

“Enjoy your break.” Amo’s cold smile would have sent chills down anyone’s spine. With one look at the clock, Amo knew his victim would be ready for yet another round when he returned from his call. James threw him a towel and Amo watched as the fabric was instantly soaked through with Sam’s blood. ”Just let me die.” Sam’s weak words angered Amo. After everything he did, did Sam really think he would get off that easy?

Torn between going back to teach Sam a lesson and answering the phone Amo paused for only a moment, but the decision was made for him. As soon as he had wiped enough blood away, James handed Amo his cell. 

“What?” Amo growled out annoyed that he had been disturbed from his work. 

“Manners, son.” Luca clipped back.

“Did you need something?” Amo asked in a forced neutral tone.

“Sounds like things are going well there. I take it Sam isn’t talking.” Luca’s words irritated his son.

“I got the information about the upcoming raid in the first half-hour. Sam is weak.” Amo replied, his tone was a bit cockier at how fast he had made the man talk. Amo was gifted in this area. Between his father and Uncle's tutelage, no one should have been surprised. The boy had been exposed to a lot at a young age, desensitized to the pain of other men quite early on, and yet his father has also taught him to balance, he knew better than most made men how to leave work behind him when he entered the door of his home or that of his parents. 

“What’s taking so long? Dispose of the guy.” Luca bit. 

“Now where's the fun in that? Can’t go easy on a traitor can we?” Amo said with a cocky grin on his face.

Luca chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm.”You actually got that done faster than I was expecting, but that’s not why I called, I wanted to let you know that Greta and Nevio landed two hours ago, I have Marco trailing them and keeping an eye on her. I don’t think there will be a problem but just in case.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Amo said, frustrated at his lack of information.

“I just got the call from Marco myself, looks like those twins aren’t as easy to keep up with.” 

“I still don’t like that she is running around New York without my protection.” Amo felt possessive at the thought of his girl being in his territory without people knowing who she belonged to.

“Welcome to my world,” Luca muttered under his breath.

“What?” Amo questioned his father's odd words.

“I just wanted to let you know we have Marco watching her. She’s under our protection and he’s supposed to call you if the girl does anything stupid, like ditching her brother while she’s here. I’m still not too thrilled about the fact you are wasting men on protecting her while she has a free day around New York.”

It had taken a lot of convincing for his father to let him go through with the plan. “I need this to happen. She can’t know we are watching her. This needs to be all her.”

While Luca understood where his son was coming from he still was Capo and needed his son to be ready to take his place, and while he wanted his son to have a marriage like his own, he knew he couldn’t be weak in front of his men or else he would look weak and lose respect. Amo was walking on thin ice when it came to Greta.

Amo hung up and looked back at the traitor, a shark grin spread across his face. “Ready to live your worst nightmare?”

Greta  
Nevio leaned against the building while waiting for Greta. She had changed back into her normal clothes after the audition and ran to Nevio.

“How’d it go?” Nevio questioned her.

“Amazing! I got a call back for this afternoon!” Greta beamed. “Nevio, it was out of this world.”

Nevio pulled his sister into a hug. “I knew you’d do great, Greta”

“So I was thinking, my call back isn’t until 2 pm, so can we do some sightseeing?” Greta pulled on Nevio’s arm, she knew it would take begging to convince him. “Central Park is literally only like two blocks down the street.” She pointed towards the faint green square covered in white popping out behind the skyscrapers.

“Greta, it is literally below freezing and snowing,” Nevio said irritatedly.

“Oh come on! Winter in New York is like the thing people do. Please?” 

“What about your audition, don’t you want to rest? Or get something to eat?”

“We can still do that! After we go to the park!” She gave him the look she knew would melt his heart. Nevio groaned but followed his sister.

‘This is a dream.’ Greta thought as they arrived in the middle of Central Park. ‘There is no way this can be real.’ She stared up at the overcast sky as little frosted flakes floated down sticking to her hair and eyelashes. Spinning around with her arms out, she let the little cold specks fall on her face. She heard children laughing as they built a snowman nearby and the faint clinks of ice skates on the rink. “This is amazing!” Greta yelled to her brother.

“I still don’t see the appeal,” Nevio looked around and made a face. “It’s literally frozen water everywhere and it's getting my shoes soaked. I can’t feel my toes.”

Greta ignored her brother’s negativity. She bent down and picked up a lump of snow and formed it into a ball. The snow was cold in her fingers and stuck to her mittens mostly. She threw the ball at Nevio hitting him right in the face. She may be a ballerina, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to throw a wicked curveball. Nevio was anything but amused at the amount of snow that now was covering his face and hair. Greta just laughed and continued twirling around in the snowflakes.

A snowball hit her shoulder and she turned to see Nevio with a wicked grin on his face.

“Oh, it’s on!” Greta teased. She picked up more snow and just started throwing it relentlessly at Nevio. It took him a moment to get the slush out of his eyes so he could get more and throw it at his sister. Soon they both were just laughing hysterically.

‘I could get used to the snow,’ Greta thought. The soft white powder was starting to fall heavier now and all she wanted to do was to dance in it. She spun around and stuck out her tongue to try to taste the sweet snow.

“Greta, it literally tastes like water,” Nevio said, condemning her childish gesture.

“Mmmm,” Greta exaggerated and sashayed around him laughing. She grabbed Nevio’s hands and pulled him in for a childish prance in the snow. He was reluctant at first, but then just laughed at his sister's remark and spun her around.

‘This is perfect.’ Greta thought to herself. ‘Nothing can ever take this away.’  
Amo  
Across the park, Amo stood with his friend and some girls they brought with them. He met them after his torture session. When he found Antonio, he groaned at who he had with him. Some politician's daughters he hadn’t bothered learning the names of stood close by. Amo didn’t care much for them, all they wanted was attention and money, two things Amo could care less about.

“Tony,” Amo greeted as he approached, “I thought it was a guys night.”

“Sandy, you need this. I heard how much aggression you let out on our friend Sam today.” Amo glared at the stupid abbreviated nickname.

“You know how I feel about these types of things, Antonio. “Amo growled between clenched teeth.

His friend walked up to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, “People are starting to talk. You obviously need to get laid, and if you turn down these girls, your men will start to question what you’re really attracted to.” Before Amo could put him in his place, one of the girls slid up to him. “So Amo,” She touched his chest and traced the zipper of his jacket. “I saw you working out the other day. You’re so strong. Is it true what the rumors say that you are part of some underground world…”

Amo hated clingy girls who were just looking for attention and a thrill of the dark side. He cut her off annoyed. “I’m only a businessman.” He pushed her away “You are a lot hotter when you keep your mouth closed.”

The girl's mouth dropped, she folded her arms and walked towards her friend who was all over Antonio. Amo wasn’t in the mood for some female pretending to be dumb just so she could end up in a tabloid with his arms around her. That was childish, if he wanted a good fuck he’d get one himself without any strings attached. Not that he could since making that fucking promise to Greta. He had thought about it of course but knowing how this world of theirs was even he wasn’t stupid enough to not believe that the Camorra could have a spy watching him.

He stared off across the park, now thinking about that stubborn girl and her fucking challenge. Greta was here in his city. He knew Julliard was not too far off, but he forced himself to not think about that. The last time he saw Greta he basically told her to forget about him. He hadn’t even contacted her since that day, only sending gifts on her birthday, Valentines, and Christmas. He knew it was for the best. He liked Greta, but she was still too young and he knew he’d only break her in the end. Amo felt he might as well let her enjoy being a child for a bit longer.

As if conjuring her from his mind, he saw a girl far away spinning in the snow that reminded him of how Greta was probably dancing somewhere in New York. She twirled around, carefree. ‘What has she never seen snow before?’ he thought to himself. Something about this girl caught his eyes, she was so mesmerizing...familiar, as if he knew her somehow. She was an angel, her long winter coat was a khaki color, and her beanie had a hint of blue and pink in it, matching her scarf, with her boots coming up to her knees. Usually, most girls he saw had almost no clothing or were too flashy, but despite her being covered up and wearing a simple ensemble, she just seemed so beautiful and relaxed. Something about her was so captivating in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. It seemed as if she had been sent here to tempt his self-control and make him break his promise to Greta. He made himself look away because he would ruin that young woman if he got his hands on her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a snowball fly and hit a figure. He turned back to see the winter angel throwing a snowball at some guy. She kept doing it until the man picked up some himself and threw it back. The man turned and Amo realized he knew those distinctive features. Nevio Falcone. Anger flared in him, her twin left Greta and was now flirting with some girl, leaving Amo’s fiancée to fend for herself in the city. 

‘We made a deal when he called me, I’d help keep her protected, but she couldn’t be running around New York alone.’ Amo thought. He never should have agreed to anything when it came to the Falcones. Then he noticed Marco at the perimeter of the park. Amo was about to storm over there and confront Nevio, or call Marco and ask where the fuck Greta was, but as he walked closer, the realization hit that the girl he had been watching was Greta. She had changed in more ways than one. Something about her dancing in the snow with not a care in the world made her seem more beautiful than ever. He thought they were going to go to the airport after her audition. ‘Why is she still here?’ he asked himself. 

Amo watched as Nevio tried to get Greta to hurry along, but she just threw her head back, laughing and spun around again, pulling Nevio into her ridiculous dancing. 

Amo wasn’t surprised she’d caught the attention of every guy in the vicinity. He didn’t like that all eyes were on her and they didn’t know she was his. He looked around to find that even Marco had his eyes upon Greta in a way that set his teeth on edge… He didn’t like it. Amo pulled out his phone and called his father.

“Tell Marco to go help clean up Sam.”

“I told you he’s watching Greta, you are the one who wanted someone to watch her.” Luca reminded his son.

“That’s not his responsibility anymore. She’s mine and if anyone is going to make sure she’s safe, it will be me.” Amo hung up the phone.  
* * *

Amo had never seen a ballet before. He had promised Nevio to help him get Greta here and stay protected. He had no intention of seeing her, she was too young and despite the kiss they shared, he still felt like he was kissing a child. It made him feel dirty, and that was saying something.

Amo snuck onto the balcony at Lincoln Center and sat in the dark corner. The judges called out her name and Greta walked onto the stage. Her face showed calm, yet there was tension in her shoulders. She was nervous. She wore a black leotard, nude tights, and a sheer short black skirt hung from her waist. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and despite it all, she looked elegant.

The music started, and Greta began dancing. The music was soft and Greta moved in a calm graceful manner. In some ways, the music seemed to fit her. The music screamed princess, and her twirls proved so. When the tempo of the piano changed and Greta’s movements shifted, her body contorted in ways that only allowed from years of practice. But the emotion behind the dance changed, it was something dark. Her dance was full of passion and turmoil. While Amo always thought he could read Greta like a book, he realized now he merely skimmed the pages. She had let loose and was dancing for herself. Despite the four people who judged her audition, it was as if no one was in the room, and at this moment, Amo realized how complex one little dance could be. She embodied that of perfection; she moved in a way that was so beautiful and delicate in every form.

Feelings come at strange moments. When you lived a life such as Amo’s, feelings conformed to rage and jealousy. All the years of being a made man caught up with him, he was hardened, and it would only get worse from here. These dark emotions choked out any good and left his heart black. But sometimes it only takes a moment, usually stumbled upon by accident in places and ways you’d never expect, it comes and goes as quick as the speed of light, but all it takes is once and it stays there, quietly resounding in the back of your mind. Amo had caught it.

He saw Greta in a way he never had before. He couldn’t draw his eyes away from her, afraid she would disappear if he blinked. The music ended and the look on Greta’s face said it all, she had done it and she knew it. She held such quiet confidence that he hadn’t seen before today. There was something about the girl whose thoughts were loud but suppressed in silence. She knew she had blown the judges away with her waltz, the gleam in her eyes said it. She thanked them for their time and walked off the stage. Amo sat stunned, not entirely sure what to do with the new emotions that sat inside him. He had seen Greta in a new light. She wasn’t a child anymore. She was a woman who held more than he knew.

As much as he wanted to run to Greta, sweep her off her feet and tell her how great she had done, he knew this moment needed to be hers and him showing up would take it away. Greta didn’t need persuasion from the Famiglia to get her in, she had done it all on her own. She needed to think that she snuck away from home, into a foreign city, and did one thing for herself for once in her life. She needed this for herself, this one thing before her life changed for good, and Amo wouldn’t dare take it away from her.  
Greta  
Greta and Nevio sat in the window of a little cafe downtown. Now that her audition was over and her nerves had subsided she realized just how hungry she was and that she should definitely eat more than a bagel and espresso shots to last her a long day.

There were still a few more hours until their flight so Nevio insisted on eating because he was “on the verge of death due to starvation.” Greta thought that was a bit dramatic, considering there were probably actual situations where he was legitimately closer to death. Still, Greta didn’t say so, as she was so hungry herself.

“Sis, I knew you would do great, hell, better than great. You lit up that stage.” Greta beamed in response.

“I felt like I was in my element. I can’t imagine anything ever being able to top this moment.” Greta’s grin was so wide, that Nevio almost didn’t say what he knew needed to be said.

“Well, since you won’t ever get to step foot on that stage again, I’m sure that’s the truth.”

Greta’s grin instantly dropped from her face.

“I know how you think you’re supposed to answer, but really do you really wanna give it all up? And all for some fucking man whore who has a stupid-ass nickname.”  
Greta took a bite of her pasta, not in the mood to talk about the lingering thought in the back of her mind. She knew she would never be able to actually pursue dance once she got married, but she had avoided thinking about it. 

“I still have almost a year. I don’t wanna think about Amo, and I don’t wanna think about next month or next week or anything else beyond now, today. I just want to enjoy each day to the fullest, and tonight I want to celebrate for dancing my butt off at Julliard! The girls I talked to while waiting, they carried the same passion as I did, they were saying stuff about being roommates, and late-night dances in Central Park-”

“Greta, you’re going to be married…” Nevio gave her a sad look, “Don’t fool yourself into getting excited about something you know can never happen. We arranged this trip just so you could have your last moment, but you know it ends here. When we get home, you might as well hang up your dancing shoes for good, and learn how to cook.”

Greta did know. Her excitement diminished, as reality set in. “Oh, umm, I know. I was just saying that, you know, if I was one of those girls, they get to do that… but this- this was just for the memory… I know my duty. I didn’t really mean me...” Greta swallowed back the emotion that was trying to leak out into her words, “I mean, it’s exciting, for them. For the other girls. I’m happy for them that they get to follow...,” and try as hard as she might the last two words could not come out any more substantial than a whisper, “...their dreams.” 

Nevio wanted to shoot someone, anyone, but there was no one he could kill to take away the pain his sister was going through. He searched for words to comfort her but knew he would never actually say them. She had to realize that canceling this wedding was her only chance at a real future. This had been a horrible idea. He never should have agreed to bring her to the audition. She told him countless times that it was just so she knew she could do it. That she wanted the experience. He knew it was a lie, but he just couldn’t tell her no. She was looking anywhere but at him trying to get her tears under control when their waitress reappeared.

“Two slices of German Chocolate.” She put the pieces of dessert down and quickly went to check on another table. Greta smiled half-heartedly down at the cake, not even attempting to hide from her brother see how red her eyes had become. 

“Thank you, Nevio. You always seem to know just what I need.” He watched as a tear splashed down on the table beside her plate. Little by little, bite after bite, her tears dried up. Nevio was grateful she was enjoying the cake, but what he wasn’t grateful for was the fact that he wasn’t the one who ordered it.  
Amo  
Across the street, Amo was seething. After the audition, Amo realized he was more committed than ever to not sleeping with anyone else until his wedding with Greta. His girl was stubborn; he had learned that over the years, and he also knew that whatever she put her mind to she could achieve because watching her on that stage it had been obvious her hard work had paid off. He felt lighter than he had in years when he watched her grab her brother's arm and prattle on about the audition. He didn’t have to hear her words to get the gist of what she was saying. In her excitement, she was more animated than he had ever seen her before. 

Over the years he had seen many sides to Greta Falcone. He had seen her sad when she dropped her cake, and he had seen her angry when he accused her parents of beating her, he had seen her embarrassed on a few occasions, he had never seen her this full of life and joy. She was simply shining and no one passing by her was left unaffected by it. So when Amo saw Nevio move slightly forward, and then his girl go from overjoyed to completely heartbroken, Amo wanted blood. He couldn’t kill Greta’s brother in front of her though, so he settled for quickly calling the restaurant and ordering a couple of slices of cake to her table. He wasn’t going to order Nevio anything until he remembered the small child who stole the last slice of cake Amo had gotten for Greta, so he decided it was better to get the boy his own, even if he didn’t deserve it. After he paid for the cake, Amo found himself watching them, his hands clenching so tight around his phone that the screen cracked. His father would be angry; it would be his fifth phone replacement this month. 

Once the cake was gone and Greta had calmed down. Amo watched as her brother helped her up out of her seat. She clung to him and Amo found himself confused. If Nevio had been the cause of her tears why was she not shying away from him, as most women in her situation would do?

Amo followed the twins to the airport. Despite the law, he was still able to get through without a boarding pass. He watched them from a distance. As soon as Greta fell asleep on her brother's shoulder. Nevio made eye contact; of course, he had seen him. Amo walked towards them.

“You can stop following us now like a creepy stalker. Greta may not have noticed, but I saw you following us around.”

“I was making sure she was protected. You are in my territory after all and she is my responsibility.” Amo warned.

“Unfortunately.” Nevio spat. “You better leave before she wakes up, I don’t want you ruining her mood when she sees you.”

“You’ve already done that, I don’t know what you said to her in the restaurant, but I saw her face. I would kill you for making her feel that way if it wouldn’t upset her so much.”

Nevio laughed. ‘He dares laugh at me?’ Amo thought, feeling rage. “I didn't make her upset, you did.” At Amo’s confusion, Nevio continued. “She is giving up her dream because she is marrying you. I have never seen her as excited and happy as she was today, she was going on about how life at Juilliard would be, and I had to painfully remind her that it would never happen because of you. If she needs protection from anyone it’s you and your family. If you want to do what’s best for her call off this fucking joke of an engagement.”

Amo didn’t like the thought that her sadness was a result of him. He had never thought about all Greta would be giving up when she married him. He felt guilty, and he didn’t like it, it made him want to punch something. Nevio’s face sounded like a good idea, but his father had taught him better control than that. “What’s best for her is being here with me where she’s safe. So as my future wife, I will be the one to protect her. I will decide what’s best for her,” Amo said. He bent down and quietly whispered in her ear where Nevio could not overhear him, “I will keep you safe, I’ll do what’s best for you, and I think I’m falling in love with you, Greta.” His lips brushed lightly towards the apple of her cheek, where he planted the softest of kisses. 

Greta stirred but didn’t open her eyes. “Nevio,” she said groggily. “Stop trying to lick me again, your breath smells bad.”

When the announcement came on saying it was time to board the plane, Amo disappeared so Greta wouldn’t see him. He watched the curious twins walk up the terminal. He didn’t like that he was responsible for Greta’s sadness and he was determined to fix it somehow.


	8. Chapter Eight

Greta & Amo  
Amo 23, Greta 18

To the Future Mrs. Vitiello

Greta crumpled up the card and tossed the unopened box toward her aunt. “You can donate whatever garbage is in that box to the girls at the Sugar Trapp.”

Gemma stared at her niece in confusion. “Don’t you want to see what’s inside it?”

Greta’s shake of her head came without hesitation, “It’s from Nina. Whatever is in there is not something I would ever wear. I know that for a fact.”

The women at the bridal shower all giggled, while Aria, her future mother-in-law, nodded her head in understanding.

“That she-devil never has learned to stop interfering.” Amo’s Aunt Gianna sounded like she couldn’t stand the woman, and Greta was hopeful that perhaps she would fit in better with her future family than she first expected.

The last two years had gone by way too fast. Amo had not come to see her at all since their engagement party, the most she heard from him was when he sent her gifts on her birthdays and holidays, which were appreciated. The jewelry was expensive and not out of the ordinary for a guy to send in their circles, even if it was a bit much for Greta’s taste. To say the least, Amo didn’t know anything about his bride to be.

“Oh, before I forget, Amo told me to give you this one,” Aria said, handing what looked like a stack of papers with a bow tied around it to Greta. At first Greta was confused about the odd gift. But as she unwrapped the bow and stared at the fresh print she felt her heart stop as she read a letter welcoming her to Julliard. 

“How? What?” The words fell incoherently from her lips. She thought Nevio had been the only one who knew she applied. Even while filling out the application, she never expected to actually attend. It was a long shot and even if she did get in she didn’t think she would be allowed to go. She was old enough to know the reality of their world. Made men chose what their wives could do and those options rarely, if ever, included anything outside of the home and charity work. However, the receipt she received showing her tuition had been paid in full listed the payee as A. Vitiello, he wouldn’t have paid it unless he was saying she could attend.

“Is this real?” Greta asked, looking at her future mother-in-law with tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to get too excited, but inside she was bursting.

“Yes sweetheart, it is.” Aria gave her a kind smile.

“But how did he know? No one knew I even auditioned except for Nevio.”

“You mean you and Nevio’s little day trip to New York a few months ago?” Serafina chimed in. “Oh, we all knew.” She went on, “Nevio came to us to tell us how much you wanted to audition, but you wanted to get in on your own terms. There was no way you could walk into Famiglia territory without someone noticing. While your father was reluctant for just the two of you to go, we called the Vitiello’s to let them know so they could have their men look out for you while you were there. Amo arranged the whole thing. We all knew sweetheart, but we wanted to let you have this without outside help.”

“I can’t believe this.” Greta stared at the paper.

“We all knew you could get in on your own, and we wanted you to prove it to yourself.” Her Aunt Kiara said with a warm smile. Her Aunt Gemma wrapped her arms around Greta’s shoulders. Surrounded by friends and family, Greta’s heart was full. She wished her Aunt Dinarah could have come but she knew the tension it caused the family when she was around so Adamo came without her. She would miss her family sorely when she moved away, but as she looked from her now family to her new one she felt welcomed. Amo's mother and Aunts had done their best to make her feel at home. Greta decided being in New York and marrying Amo wouldn’t be so bad after all. It seemed to her that he was trying to be kind to her and even if it was a marriage of convenience she knew she could find warmth in her mother-in-law and for that she was thankful. This life-changing gift touched her so much, she could practically feel her heart melting and all the worries she had were washing away with it. She was almost excited for her wedding next week. She made a mental note to thank Amo profusely when she saw him.

None of the other gifts she received came even close to making her feel the way Amo’s did. As she and her family went back to their hotel after the shower, she was almost too scared to fall asleep for fear of waking up and having it all be a dream. She gets to go to Julliard! Her life-long dream of being a real ballerina is finally going to come true! She wanted to kiss Amo for making this happen.

The next day, she twirled around her room as she got ready for lunch with the Vitiello’s. They were to be welcomed into the family mansion as Famiglia tradition goes. She hadn’t seen him in two years and she wanted to look elegant and womanly, and maybe a little bit sexy... She had found a lovely light pink dress with a sheer top with beading along the waistline and a chiffon skirt that stopped just above the knee. She saw it in Vegas and made sure to buy it right away. She wasn’t a little girl anymore and wanted to make sure Amo knew it. As she was pulling her hair up, Nevio came in. “I hate ties. Why do we have to go to this fancy lunch anyway? You’re getting married in five days, not today. I shouldn’t have to wear a suit until then,” He kept fiddling with the knot of his tie and pulling it away from his neck.

“Oh, stop it, Nevio. You’ll be okay. This is Famiglia tradition. And I need to thank Amo for Juilliard,” When she turned to face her brother she instantly noticed his disapproving look. “What? Do I have something on my face?” she turned to look in the mirror and Nevio walked to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“You look great. But don’t tell me you’re falling for him over a glorified scholarship. Even with Julliard, you can’t possibly be happy here. You don’t know him well enough to be in love. You haven’t even seen the guy in two years!” He was barely holding back his quiet rage. He never was one to accept change.

“I’m not in love with Amo! I just appreciate what he did for me. And I am looking forward to marrying him and living in New York. He’s going to treat me very well, I could definitely do worse and you know it!” She stopped for a moment, in thought. Did she love Amo? It was too soon to say. She definitely liked him, but could she ever love him? She hoped so but she didn’t even know him.

“You can’t do this. You can’t leave Vegas, and you can’t leave the Camorra. When I am Capo I will do everything I can to get you back, I promise. You can’t be traded fo-”

“Enough Nevio! I am happy about this! When are you going to stop being so selfish and just leave me alone? I want to be here. I was nervous at first, but Amo is a good guy, and he’s trying so hard to help me be comfortable. Why do you have such a hard time seeing that? I know you’ve been trying to get me to call this off since the beginning. I know you aren’t happy about me leaving. But I will be okay. I can handle myself. If you’re going to keep up with your nasty comments and opinions, then don’t bother coming to the wedding.” 

Nevio’s voice dropped an octave, “News flash Greta, he isn’t a good guy. He’s called the Sandman for a reason.”

She stormed out of her room, not bothering to give a second glance at her twin, standing by her vanity as close to losing it as he could get. She hated it when they fought, but she was sick and tired of all the negativity. So what if she didn’t love Amo? She could be happy regardless.

She didn’t so much as make eye contact with Nevio again until they pulled up to the Vitiello mansion. ‘So this is where my wedding will be?’ she thought as they pulled up in front of a huge mansion with a beautiful garden in the front. A white wedding arch was already set up, adorned with roses and baby’s breath twisting around it like a dance. She could picture herself standing there with Amo, hand-in-hand in front of everyone they knew, her dress billowing in a soft breeze as they shared their first kiss as man and wife. Her heart sped up at the thought and she got butterflies in her stomach. Five days. That’s all the time she had left as a Falcone.

They walked up to the front door of the mansion and Amo himself opened the door to welcome them inside. His hair fell over his forehead making him look boyish. Greta felt butterflies when she saw him. Two years really was a long time. It was a feeling she had never experienced with Amo before. That’s when she remembered her acceptance letter, her childhood crush, him kissing her bloody toes.. This weird feeling tugged at her insides that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen him for two years that she felt giddy and a little irritated because he was her fiancé after all.

“Are you ready Greta?” He asked as he offered her his hand. She felt nervous as she took it and crossed the threshold into her new life. She didn’t trust her words to come out clearly so she remained silent as they all walked inside and were greeted by the rest of the Vitiello’s. For some reason, Greta’s head was cloudy with the thought of his lips on hers; she wanted nothing more than his soft kiss. Remembering how Amo teased her about being so young made Greta feel embarrassed and self conscious in a way she had never felt. ‘What is going on with me?’ she thought to herself. She was a Falcone after all, they never felt embarrassed or doubtful.

“Are you okay?” Amo asked with a strange look on his face. 

“I’m fine, why?” Greta said, shaking the scandalous thoughts out of her mind.

“I asked if you wanted something to drink and you didn’t answer.” He said looking at her as if she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Do you mind getting me some water? I think I need to sit for a moment.” Greta released his hand that she was still holding.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Amo leaned forward, and for just a moment, Greta hoped he would kiss her. He paused, leaned back, and stood up. Disappointment filled her heart as she watched him walk away. ‘I’m so stupid. Of course he wouldn’t kiss me. He’s just trying to do his duty and treat me well. He can’t really love me. I mean, apparently he cares for me, but love? Impossible.’

“Why does he not have to wear a tie but I have to?” her twin scoffed from behind her. She jumped as he spoke, not realizing he was there. “What? Are you still mad at me? Come on Greta, I’m just trying to protect you.”

Greta had so much on her mind, she didn’t know what to say back, so she stayed silent. She should have apologized to her twin but for once in her life Greta felt out of control. It was as if she was watching her life unfold from outside her body, like some nightmare, screaming at herself on the inside to do something, say something but all she did was sit there as if her mind and even her heart were at war.  
* * *  
Greta had spent most days leading up to the wedding at the Vitiello’s Mansion. She barely saw Amo as it was, and hadn’t even had a chance to thank him for Julliard. She was always being rushed from one thing to the next. Between brunches and formal dinners she felt overwhelmed and exhausted. Ironically the day before her wedding was the calmest she had felt in a long time. It was raining. It almost never rained in Vegas, it was a desert afterall, but the few times it did she loved it.

It was the day before her wedding and, as it goes, last minute preparations were put in place. Her dress had been delivered to the mansion the day before and was scheduled for one last fitting to make sure it was as perfect as needed. It was early in the morning, she sat in the backseat of the black SUV with her mother next to her. The men had other business to attend to later and couldn't concern themselves with matters of last minute dress alterations.

When they arrived they were greeted by Aria. She gave Serafina and Greta a hug and rushed them inside so they could get out of the pouring rain.

“The seamstress just called, it seems she is stuck in traffic. I tell you every time it rains in New York it's like the driving gets worse.” Aria led them toward the parlor. “I have some coffee and scones in the kitchen if you would like some.”

“I actually would love some coffee,” Serafina said, following Aria towards the kitchen.

“Would you like anything sweetheart?” Aria asked Greta.

“I am fine, thank you.” Greta gave a smile before the two walked away. She could hear them talking about her, but she ignored it.

As Greta walked over to the love seat by the window, she sighed. She felt so many emotions these last few days, she didn’t know how much longer she could handle the pressure. Sometimes she wished she could fast forward to the future to get the unknown out of the way. She wanted desperately to prepare herself for a civil yet loveless marriage. She was terrified of the feelings that were clawing at her heart every time she saw her groom-to-be. It seemed that the more she tried to force those feelings down, the stronger they became.

“Oh, sorry.” a voice said. Greta turned around and saw Amo. His hair was wet and he was in jeans and a black t-shirt. “I didn’t realize you were here already or else I wouldn’t have-'' he stumbled over his words, she had never seen him like this, so unguarded. “I just got out of the shower, so that's why my hair-” he fumbled again “You look different.”

“Well you’ve probably never seen me so dressed down.” Greta fidgeted with her shirt. She only had jeans and a dark green sweater on. Her hair was down and held her natural waves, instead of pinned up or curled. She suddenly felt very self conscious about her lack of make-up. “Sorry, I was supposed to just be getting last minute fixes done, but the seamstress is caught in traffic. I wouldn’t normally wear this-”

Amo cut her off. “You look beautiful Greta.” He gave her a smile before he turned and walked away. This was the first time she had been completely alone with him in what felt like forever and it felt different. They had totally just had a moment and she wanted to hold onto it.  
“Amo!” She called after him, he turned to look at her. “Thank you,” he looked puzzled for a moment but she quickly added, “for Julliard!”

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips, “Anything for you la mia sposa.”

Just then Aria and her mother came back into the room with the seamstress and she was pushed off to fix her dress.

She could barely sleep that night as so many thoughts played in her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever get the fairytale ending she dreamed of when she saw him as a little girl. She kept replaying him calling her his bride over and over again. She felt heartbroken over losing her brother over something she had no choice in, but she found herself wanting this marriage more than anything. This would be her last night as a Falcone. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand that read 2:34 a.m., she hoped she wouldn’t have dark circles under her eyes during the ceremony. Just as she calmed her brain down enough to rest, she heard a soft knock on the door. Feeling slightly annoyed, she got up to open it. “Hey, I can’t sleep. Can we talk?” Her annoyance vanished at the sight of her brother. Opening the door wider, she motioned for him to come in. As they sat on the bed Greta felt sleepiness overcome her. 

“What now, Nevio?” She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I have a plan to stop this once and for all. I know you asked me to stop scheming, but please just hear me out. I can arrange for your hairstylist to not show up in the morning, you can ask that I drive you somewhere to get your hair done and we can run away from here. We can lay low for a few months until it’s safe to go home. Please just think about it.” 

While one part of Greta longed to stay with her family, another part knew she had a duty and she had to marry Amo. She would miss her brother something awful; it made her sick to her stomach at the very thought that he wouldn’t be one room over from hers after tonight. He wouldn’t drive her to ballet lessons, or pick her up from school, or have quiet midnight talks when she couldn’t sleep. A part of her would always belong in Vegas, to Nevio, he was literally her other half. Despite the part of her that was reluctant to leave her brother, the love she had for Amo anchored her to New York, and with that she knew she would always be his too.

“No, I can’t. I’m too tired to fight right now. I think I'm falling in love with Amo, and I’m genuinely happy we’re getting married. I love you more than anything Nevio, and I want you in my life, even when I’m in New York.”

“You love him?” Nevio scoffed, it was as if he didn’t hear her at all, he got up and left leaving her alone in the dark.

* * *  
“I’m going to miss you so much, Greta! I love you,” Serafina hugged her daughter tightly, and Greta could tell she was holding back tears. Her mother never cried; she wasn’t the emotional type.

“Stop Mom, or I’ll cry too and ruin my makeup,” Greta laughed as she tilted her head up and fanned her eyes. She was half an hour away from becoming a Vitiello. Nerves were high as guests had started to arrive. Greta was ready; her hair fell on her shoulders in polished curls, her nails had been filed to perfection and painted a soft pink, and her beautiful gown was billowing around her like a princess before a coronation. It was pure white, but the underskirt was the palest touch of pink that only showed when she walked. The off-the-shoulder long lace sleeves showed beautifully on her tanned skin and the beaded bodice showed off her curves. The only thing that was missing was the veil. She was just about to ask her mother to get it when Marcella came into the room.

“You have a visitor,” she whispered in Greta's ear. “Come with me.” Marcella took her arm and led her to the door. “Sit here with your back against the wall. No peeking!” She helped Greta sit on the floor, which was a difficult task with so much fabric. “Thank you, Cella. What’s going on?” Greta was very confused. “You’ll see! Remember, no peeking!” And with that, Marcella walked out the door and vanished around the corner. Greta sat alone in silence for a minute before she heard a soft “Hey,” followed by the view of a hand that pushed a small slice of cake through the open door. The cake didn’t surprise her; the voice that came with it however….

“Amo! You can’t see me before the wedding, it’s bad luck!” 

“Screw bad luck. Besides, I’m not looking at you. I just thought we could eat some cake and have a moment alone before we have to be around tons of people for hours. I figured you might like that.”

“You’re right. Thank you.” Greta took the cake and sampled a small bite.

“Are you nervous?” Amo asked after an awkward silence passed, taking an obligatory bite of the dessert. Amo had never had much of a sweet tooth, but he knew this was something his bride wouldn’t want to do alone.

“Yes, but I’m also excited.” Greta’s words came easier than she would have expected. Was it her revelation that Amo had already captured her heart? Despite knowing that he might not ever return her feelings, Greta didn’t care. Amo was good to her, he would protect her, and give her a good life. That was all that mattered. 

“I knew it would mean the world to you. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been looking forward to this wedding for a while now.” Amo lightly tapped his fingers on the ground, motioning for Greta to place her free hand in his. “And I wanted to tell you; I kept up my end of the bargain. I haven’t slept with anyone since we made that deal. Hell, I haven’t even kissed anyone.” Despite the fact that his words should have made her feel proud, instead, all she could feel were her cheeks heating. She knew he hadn’t been with anyone of course. Even the girls of the mafia world had their ways of knowing things, but to have him admit it was very impressive. “And what’s most surprising is that I haven’t even wanted to. You’re all I’ve thought about since I saw you dancing at Julliard.” His words were emphasized with his fingers tightening around hers. Greta’s partially eaten cake laid in her lap as she found herself at a loss for words.

“I’ve tried to get you out of my mind, but I just couldn’t. That day Greta-” He stopped as if fumbling for his words. A mafia man stumbling over words was almost never heard of. “That day was the day I fell in love with you, Greta. And I know you don’t love me yet, but that’s okay. I just hope that one day you will.” This time it was her hand tightening around his as tears began rolling down her cheeks.

“Amo, I didn’t know you felt that way. I love you too!” The tears kept coming but they were anything but sad, this was the happiest she had ever been in her life. She didn’t spare a single thought for her ruined eye make-up. 

“Wait, you do? I know this marriage is to bring peace and security Greta, but even if it wasn’t, I would risk a fucking war for you. Damn, Greta I don’t think you realize how much I would do for you.”

Amo lifted their joined hands and she felt his lips skim the back of her hand. “Twinkle toes, I would capture your lips right now if I didn’t think you’d throw a fuss about bad luck.” Amo’s growl warmed her heart. Greta felt like a princess who just got her prince, and at that moment, she knew all her dreams were coming true, and she couldn’t wait to have her happily ever after.


	9. Chapter Nine

Nevio  
It was forty-five minutes until his twin sister got married. After their talk last night, he decided to give up on his escape plans for now, but he was still worried that Greta was going to be unhappy and hurt in this marriage. Well, if he couldn’t stop the wedding, he can at least uphold their tradition, one last time. Nevio left his room and started making his way to the ballroom where the reception would be. He just had to make sure he had time to steal some cake and see his sister. He was three doors away when he heard, “Nevio! You need to get your jacket and tie on! We don’t have time for this. Guests are already arriving and getting seated outside.” Matteo stood in front of the grand double doors with his arms crossed. 

“I have plenty of time. You’re not my Consigliere, and I can fend for myself. Fuck off!” Nevio attempted to step past the tall man, however, he wouldn’t budge. “Watch your tone, kid. My job is to keep all of the men in order, and that includes you. Now go finish getting dressed, then you can do whatever the hell you want until the ceremony starts.” With a huff, Nevio knew he would never be able to get past Matteo without a fight, and he knew his sister would kill him if he ruined her wedding. He swallowed his pride and went back to his room to finish getting ready. When he perfected his appearance, he still had twenty minutes before the ceremony, so he hurried back down to the ballroom, successfully avoiding Matteo this time, and made a beeline for the cake. 

Wait, something is wrong. As he approached the back of the cake, Nevio saw that there was a chunk already missing. Hot rage burned inside him. He knew Amo did it just to sabotage what little time Nevio had left with Greta. He saw red as he walked so fast he was practically running across the mansion to where Greta was preparing for the wedding. Nevio cursed Matteo for wasting his time and making him miss this final moment, this final tradition of theirs. Nevio slowed as he neared the bride’s room so he didn’t make a scene, but when he drew closer he could hear his sister’s voice and stopped so he could hear who she was talking to. Soon her voice was replaced with a deeper one, and it took all his self-control to not yell at Amo for stealing this time too. She wasn’t a Vitiello yet. Why did Amo have to steal her away so early? 

“That was the day I fell in love with you, Greta. And I know you don’t love me yet, but that’s okay. I just hope that one day you will.” 

Nevio paused. What? How could Amo love Greta? He barely knows her! Surely she doesn’t believe him!

“I love you, too!” Nevio felt dejected at those words.. Despite everything that had occurred over the years, it was that moment hearing her say those words to him, that finally made him realize this was really happening and nothing he did could stop it. 

Nevio felt his shoulders slump. She really was marrying him. She really was leaving Las Vegas forever. She was leaving the Camorra, their family; she was leaving him. But she wasn’t just losing them; she was gaining a new family. She was sincerely happy about this wedding. And there was something in Amo’s voice that made even Nevio believe him. Maybe everything would be okay, after all. Nevio set his jaw and made a promise to himself. ‘As long as Greta is happy with Amo, I will never do anything to damage that again. When I am Capo, I will do everything in my power to keep the peace between us. If I can do that, I won’t lose Greta. Her happiness is all that matters.’

Sighing, he looked at his watch. Five minutes until the ceremony was to begin. Squaring his shoulders, he turned the corner and saw Amo holding Greta’s hand through the doorway. “It’s time to go.” He offered his hand to Amo and pulled him to his feet. Before he let go, he drew Amo close and whispered quietly enough so Greta wouldn’t hear, “I want you to treat her well, love her well, keep her happy, and I will do everything it takes to keep the peace going, brother.” Amo smiled at Nevio, but it wasn’t a cold and calculating smile, it was genuine. 

“Wanting her happiness is the one thing we will always have in common.” Amo’s words were filled with complete sincerity and Nevio knew that between the two of them Greta would have everything she ever wanted in this world. 

The men parted and Nevio strode through the door. Greta’s cheeks were tear-stained and a half-eaten plate of cake lay beside her. Despite the drying tears, Nevio could see her eyes were shining bright with happiness. Holding out his hand Nevio smirked down at his sister, “Come on, let’s get you ready to walk down the aisle.”

“You aren’t going to try and convince me to run away again?” Greta joked as Nevio pulled her to her feet, but even he could hear the worrying truth behind her words.

“No.” he told her with a small sad smile. 

“He’s going to be a good husband for me,” Greta said with blushing cheeks.

“Yes, he will. I still don’t like him though, and if he ever does anything to hurt you there will be a war so huge not even heaven and hell combined would be able to hold me back,” Nevio said, wiping away a tear on her cheek. “In the meantime, I’ll stop being such an asshole to him. He better treat you with the respect you deserve forever,” He gave a twisted shark grin and with extreme confidence added, “or I’ll kill him.” He added, causing his sister to scoff and punch his shoulder.

“Come on Nevio, go get Mom to help me fix my makeup, and while you are at it, can you please put on your tie?”

* * *  
It felt like time flew by too quickly when Nevio found himself helping his father escort his twin towards the doors to her future. The notes of the wedding march made him feel like he was suffocating. Nevio’s hand instinctively went to his neck attempting to loosen his tie, but his twin’s hand stopped him. 

“Not today.” She scolded, and he couldn't find the words to argue with her. She looked like the princess he and his father had tried to protect for so long. Now though, they were preparing to hand her over, and only a short walk down the aisle was left before his sister stopped being a princess and embraced being New York’s Queen.

“Wow.” Greta gave a shaky breath as the trio stepped in front of the door that would lead to the waiting guests and her prince. Nevio found himself watching his twin. Her eyes were focused on the end door. 

“I guess this is the end.” Nevio hadn’t even realized he’d spoken the words aloud until Greta’s voice spoke up.

The doors opened revealing the standing crowd waiting for her long walk down the aisle. Somewhere in the mix sat his mother holding back tears she would never allow to fall. Half of the guests probably had hidden guns ready to pull out at any sign of defiance, and somewhere at the end of the aisle waited Amo to take away his sister forever, but despite all of that, Greta just looked at her brother and gave him the biggest smile he’d ever seen “Oh Nevio, it’s only the beginning.”

~The End~


End file.
